


By the king's hand

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dark, F/M, nonconsent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 62,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers.This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.Summary: You attend king Loki’s coronation but the night ends precariously.
Relationships: Loki/Reader
Comments: 138
Kudos: 416





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what I’m doing.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback<3

“Come on!” Gilla latched onto your arm as she wove through the streets. The bodies around you were so many it was hard to move one way or the other. “Can’t see anything from here.”

“Gil,” you grumbled, “You’ve already dragged me to the square, where are you taking me now?”

“Don’t you realise,” she called to you, “This is history! We are going to see history!”

“It matters little to me. Tomorrow I will be sat in the shop just as I was before you disturbed me.” 

You stumbled as she lunged between two bodies and barely kept hold of you. Your clogs nearly slipped off your feet as she veered around the base of one of the ancient pillars at the edge of the square. She stopped and looked up the etched stone and grinned.

“Tell me you’re not–”

“You remember when we were children? We used to see who could climb furthest.” She chimed. “We’ve just got to get high enough to reach that branch.”

Gilla pointed at the thick-trunked oak which had stood nearly as long as the pillars. The Founder’s Tree bore as many carvings as the pillars, an artifact of the city’s residents. You shook your head.

“We are not children anymore,” you insisted.

“Only if we act so,” she trilled, “You’ve come this far. I know you’re not going to abandon me now.”

You sighed and put your hands on your hips. You were glad for the workman’s pants your uncle let you wear in the shop and the sweaty tunic belted at your waist. Gilla wore the embroidered skirts that many of the merchants’ daughters loved but you never bothered as they were often stained with clay or soot by the end of the day.

“If someone sees us…” you warned.

“No one’s looking at us!” She hooked her fingers into a deep crack and hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around the pillar. Her skirts bunched precariously above her knees as she began to shimmy up. “Or did you really want to stare at the back of everyone’s heads?”

You rolled your eyes as you watched her a little longer before following her. Gilla was thin, she always had been, and was little bothered by the way her skirts rumpled around her waist. You grunted as you heaved yourself up. The higher you got, the more you realised how dangerous it was. You hadn’t the wherewithal as children to think of it.

Gilla unhooked one lang and hung off the side of the pillar as she reached out to the branch. Suddenly you wanted to slide back down. You only pictured her lunging and falling down to a horrid fate. 

She thrust herself off the pillar and caught herself on the branch lithely. She swung her leg over and was upright in a moment. After all the years since your last contest, she had barely slowed.

“Hurry,” she whined as the horns began to blow. “The new king will appear soon.”

You took a breath and frowned. You couldn’t make it. If you tried, your sweaty hands would not be able to hold you, your weight, much more than that of a child, would plummet you back to the earth. You looked at Gilla and braced yourself. You threw yourself away from the pillar and caught the branch with a yelp.

The horns grew louder as you hung from the tree. You kicked your legs as you struggled to mimic Gilla. She moved closer and bent down to try to help. A drumming sounded and a voice boomed above the crowd and hushed the impatient voice. The marching of armoured boots entered the square from the opposite end and the music vibrated through your body as you hissed and clung to the tree frantically.

“People of Asgardia,” the crier proclaimed, “I present to you, Loki, Son of Odin, First of His Name, sanctified and rightful heir to the twelve realms and newly-anointed King of Asgardian. Hear, hear, long live the king!”

You finally dug your foot into the side of the tree as you cried out desperately. You walked up the trunk and hooked your leg over the branch as Gilla helped pull you up. The leaves barely offered a curtain to your shame as you righted yourself and you poked your friend meanly in the side. 

“Never again,” you swore as you gasped for breath.

“Oh, hush, look,” she pointed past the foliage around you, “Look. The king!”

You glanced over at the dark head of the new ruler. The golden horns of his crown and the lustrous silver of his robes. King Loki seemed to stare back at you as the branch shifted beneath you and rustled the leaves.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gilla remanded, “You’ll snap our perch.”

“Shhh,” you covered her mouth, “You’ll give us away.”

She pulled your hand away and sniffed. “It’s fine. It’s just a tree.”

You tutted and looked back to the platform at the centre of the square. The people cheered and stomped and clapped with the music. There would be a feast for all. The tents had already been erected both within and without the royal grounds. The latter would be for the commoners though a seat would be hard to find amidst the hungry hordes.

“He’s not so handsome as his brother,” Gilla bemoaned, “But I wouldn’t call him hideous.”

“How can you tell from so far?” You snipped.

“You remember Brytta? She is a chambermaid in the palace now. Once she did sneak me in through the laundries. I saw the princes rather well.” She preened.

“Well, I don’t think comeliness the most important feature of a king,” you reproached. “I remember this prince hasn’t the nicest reputation.”

“He does enjoy tricks but every court has a jester to do tricks,” Gilla shrugged.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I suppose he could not be very different from his father.”

Gilla watched the king a little longer as you leaned against the trunk. You wondered how you would descend without catastrophe as the parade went on.

“A pity it is not his brother,” she uttered under her breath. “To think he stepped down for that Lady Jane… romantic but… he would’ve been a fine king.”

“Oh, and how should you know a fine king?” You snorted sarcastically.

“He was a warrior like Odin. A good king needs to be able to fight.”

“And I heard Loki did fight in kind,” you squinted. “I believe it was you who told me that though I can never be certain where you learn these things.”

“Yes, but no one ever spoke much of this prince’s honour,” she picked at the bark between her legs. “Well, one day, you and me, we’re going to tell our children how we watched the king from this very tree. Isn’t that something?”

“And warn them not to chance the climb,” you muttered, “If we do survive the way down.”

“Oh do not be so grim,” she prodded your shoulder. “We should be away before the king if we want a plate.”

“No, I’ve bread at home.” You watched as she inched to the end of the branch. “You can’t do that– you’ll–”

“I’ll be just fine but if you want to perish up here for your fear, I’ll mourn you from below.” She leaped and caught herself on the pillar as easily as before. “And I’ll not wait long as I have no desire to be trampled.”

You huffed and pushed your head back. You looked around at the crowd and the king amid the eye of the storm. He stood staunchly, tall and slender, his chin held up as his eyes seemed fixed on the old tree. You would have to be quick before he thought to send one of his many guards. That was if he could even see you.

You readied yourself as Gilla began to shimmy down the pillar. You straddled the branch and neared the end as she had. You felt it dip and closed your eyes in a silent prayer. When you opened them, you pulled your feet up under you and jumped blindly. You hugged the stone and muffled a scream behind your lips. You whimpered as you made certain you weren’t falling.

“Gilla,” you growled as you peered down at her, “I hate you.”

“And that’s why I love you,” she called back.

🐍

The long tent was filled quickly and you sat at the end of a bench with Gilla pressed against you. Your adrenaline deepened your hunger and you quickly stole a pie from the stacks placed among the immense trestles. The voices mingled and blared under the canvas and filled it with damp heat. 

Above the cheerful, chewing noise of the peasants, you could hear the distant din of the nobility. On the other side of the palace wall, they ate from golden plates, not wood, and divulged in food even more savoury and plenty. You didn’t resent a free meal and did not envy the aristocratic celebration. Among your own people, there was no expectation and joy more pure than the rehearsed glee of the upper crest.

Gilla drank two cups of the cheap wine. It tasted like vinegar and the ale smelled sickly. You avoided both as you saw the effects of it all around you.

The night approached in shadows through the open mouth of the tent but the feast wore on. Dancing began as musicians played on drums and untuned lutes. The music was not so sweet as that played by the royal band but it fed a spritely fever in the crowd.

Gilla went to relieve herself as you watched a drunken man in a sloppy jig. The king would be called generous for feeding the masses. It was clever. An unspoken bribe to the citizenry.

When Gilla returned, she was hiccuping but her eyes were lit with delight. She tugged on your hand as she tried to hold in the air as it rose in her chest. She exhaled and rubbed her stomach with her other hand.

“Come, I’ve something to show you.” She declared.

“It’s late, we should go before there’s a brawl,” you cautioned, “You know what happens when ale is poured so freely.”

“Shhh, the sky is not yet black,” she drew you to your feet. “Just come with me.”

You humoured her. She was drunk. Likely, she would forget by the time you were outside. You were certain she had as she led you around the back and past the rear of another tent. In the shadows along the palace wall. she pulled you behind her and pressed herself to the stone.

“I watched the guard go,” she pointed to a small gate hidden along the curve of the barrier, “With a woman… he should be away for some time.”

“A woman.” You echoed. “Oh,” you realised the implication in her words, “So?”

“You’ve never wanted to see the palace?”

“I’ve seen it–”

“From afar. You’ve seen the windows and the rooves. You’ve never seen the gardens or the statues or the fountains…”

“We can’t. Gilla, we’ll get caught and–”

“Be quiet and we won’t,” she tugged on your sleeve and you planted your heels.

“No,” You hissed, “We can’t.”

“No, you won’t,” she snapped, “but you won’t stop me either.”

She let go of you and lifted her skirt above her sandals as she raced forward. You cursed and followed as you watched her stagger through the open gate inset into the stone. You caught her arm as she broke the threshold.

“Gilla–”

“Let go of me!” She said loudly.

You shushed her and recoiled. Her eyes gleamed as she looked at the colourful round tent that swell with lantern light and sweet harp music. She dashed onward and you kept close. You would have to drag her out of here herself if she insisted on crashing the royal festivities.

She stopped at a seam and pulled it apart to peer between the silk. Her face shone as light leaked out from the tent and she gasped. “Look,” she whispered, “They’re all so beautiful.”

You came up beside her and peeked inside. The king sat at a table amid his lords and their ladies, several other trestles were lined with nobles garbed in rich satins and brocade. You looked to Gilla as he lashes fluttered and you tried to pull her back.

“That’s enough,” you sneered, “we can’t linger.” You looked back as you heard a metal clink and the heavy boot fall of a guard, “There is a watch.”

“They cannot see us here,” she clung to the silk. “Could you imagine? Wearing a gown like that?’

“No, and I have no fancy to think of it,” you said, “Gilla…” you quieted as the shadow of guard passed along the front of the tent. You snatched the silk and pushed it together. “Let’s go. Now!”

“Hey!” She shouted and you heard the sharp halt of armoured feet.

“Gilla! Go!” You tore her away from the wall of the tent.

You shoved her ahead of you as the dark figure of the guard came back around to look along the side of the tent. Gilla giggled but kept on as you broke into a sprint. She was at least sensical enough to realise you were being chased. You could hear the pursuit not far behind.

“Go, go, go,” you demanded, “Shit!”

The small gate was closed and another guard stood before it. You veered away and grabbed Gilla’s arm as you directed her over to the wines running up the south end of the wall. The other guard had joined the chase and you didn’t dare look back.

“Climb,” you pushed Gilla into the wall, “Come on.”

She laughed again but did as you bid. You followed closely but your clogs made it hard as the vines caught on them. You kicked off your shoes frantically. Your ankle was caught suddenly and you cried out. Gilla stopped and looked down at you. You tried to wriggle free of the gauntleted hand but your other leg was trapped in kind.

“Go!” You barked up, “Go!”

You wrestled with the guards as they gripped your ankles. With a sharp yank, they tore you from the vines and you landed on your back in the dirt. The air rushed from your lungs and you coughed painfully. 

“Please,” you wheezed as the guards seized your arms and forced you up, “I was just– I’m lost. I didn’t–”

Metal cut into your lip as a fist struck you. Hard. Your head pulsed and your eyes watered as you were dragged away from the wall. Your feet skidded over the dirt and you struggled to see straight.

“Don’t–” You groaned. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You are trespassing,” the guard snarled. “On royal grounds.”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. Please. You can just let me go and–”

“Get her in irons.” The guard at your left growled to the other, “I’ll have the grounds searched for any others.

“No, no, no,” you tried to resist as the large man jerked you forward. 

“Shut up.” He swatted the back of your head. “You best hope the king is merciful this day.”

🐍

You could say at least that you had seen the palace. however you did not think you would ever have the chance to tell Gilla or anyone else. Past the laundries, past the kitchens, you were thrown into a small room hidden along a vacant corridor. The guard stood inside the door, his hand on his pommel, as sniffed and sniped.

“Fucking wench, ruining the whole night,” he grumbled.

You ignored him as you sat on the floor with your head down. Heavy cuffs held your hands behind you, a chain between them. You should blame Gilla but you only hoped that she got away.

You stayed there for an hour, perhaps more. _Were you waiting? And if so, for what?_

You were roused only by the sound of mail and armour in the corridor. Another guard approached as the one within opened the door. The single torch on the wall flicker as a trim and tall figure strode inside, the second guard at his back.

“Your majesty,” the guard bowed his head.

“And why have I been disturbed on the night of my coronation?” You stared at the king as his sharp features shone in the licking firelight.

“Your majesty, we can handle the trespasser. We were only about to take them to the dungeon.”

“Can you? How then did he get this far?” The king glared down his nose at the guard. “I am told as I toast to my throne that some street rat has thrown up the alert.”

“It is contained, your maj–”

“Out!” The king barked. “Both of you. I shall deal with the criminal myself.”

King Loki turned to face you and his lip twitched as he looked at you for the first. You quickly lowered your eyes and listened to the guards retreat into the corridor. There was silence as the kicks boots softly moved across the stone. He paced back and forth then approached you suddenly.

“Peasant,” he called as he stopped before you, “I shall permit you to look upon me as I speak. To make certain that you can understand me.”

Slowly, you lifted your head and blinked. “Your majesty,” you rasped. 

He was rather frightening up close. His dark hair hung in loose waves to his shoulders and he was much taller than he seemed from afar. His green eyes glowed even as he blocked the torchlight with his figure.

“You trespassed on crown land. Do you understand the punishment for such an affront?”

You gulped. You knew. All knew. This man’s own father had made his laws and their consequences hard to forget. Your fate became clear all at once.

“Yes, your majesty.” You tried to moisten your lips with your tongue as you found it hard to talk, “Hanging.”

He smirked and tilted his head. He backed up slightly as his hands rested on his hips and he considered you. He chuckled and bent his knees as he squatted before you. He twined his fingers together as he positioned himself as a parent would over their child.

“And are you prepared to hang for your wandering?” He challenged.

You looked him in the face, closer now, you could see the taunting gleam in his eyes. It angered you. The sheer nonchalance that hung from his shoulders.

“If I must, your majesty,” you answered, “I suppose that I am ready.”

His brows drew together as he weighed your words. He stared at you and reached out to free a loose thread from your sleeve.

“And you did also loiter upon a relic of the kingdom,” he said, “Did you not?”

You grimaced as you watched him. You said nothing.

“I almost did hope you would’ve fallen. It would’ve have been just, wouldn’t it?” 

Your lips parted in realisation. He _had_ seen you.

“As your majesty says,” you agreed, “It is _your_ justice.”

He stood and snickered. He went to the corner and took the short stool hidden there. He approached again and sat across from you.

“Why did you trespass?” He asked pointedly.

“I was lost,” you answered.

“You know, it would be a third offense to lie to your king.” You pressed your lips together. “You are rather convincing when you try to act brave but you are not such a good liar on other fronts.” His long fingers tapped above his knee. “So why did you trespass?”

“Lost, your majesty. I only realised too late how lost I truly was.” You repeated.

“But there was another? Perhaps that accomplice who also scaled the Founder’s Tree?”

“It was dark. It was only me.” You could not say Gilla was there for that only meant she would suffer too. “I am to the core sorry that I did trespass and it is not an act I would repeat. Though I can gather that I would not have the chance to.”

He nodded and raised his chin as he looked to the ceiling. He bit his lip as he thought. He smirked again. When he looked at you, his gaze made you want to shudder. 

“It is a night of celebration and as king, I should show mercy on such occasion, especially so early into my reign.” He said evenly, “So perhaps you might beg mercy and I might show benevolence.”

His tone was mocking and pompous. He enjoyed his power over you, though it was no feat to hold authority over a commoner. There were horses of better standing than you. You swallowed. Your life was not worth his arrogance. You would play his game.

“Your majesty, I beg your mercy–”

“On your knees,” he flicked two fingers up. “Do it proper, now. I know you’ve not training in etiquette but I do expect some decency.”

You hid your discomfort and shifted as you pulled your legs under you. With your hands bound, it was awkward and difficult. As you raised yourself on your knees, you fell forward and he caught you before you could hit his knee. He chuckled.

“Your majesty,” you cleared your throat as he righted you. “Thank you,” you choked out, embarrassed. “I…” You exhaled, “I beg of you to show me mercy for my offense–”

“Crimes,” he interjected.

“…for my crimes,” you corrected, “And I pray that you will not sentence me harshly.”

He was quiet. He raised his brows expectantly.

“Please, your majesty, I beg of you.” You pleaded, “Please, if you were to spare me, I would be forever beholden to you.”

He tapped his toe and pushed his shoulders back. He stood suddenly and his emerald cape flapped behind him as he folded his hand behind him. He paced and stopped again, in front of you. He gazed down at you and brought his hand forward to pick his nail.

“Mercy, I grant you. You, little mouse, will not be hung.” He announced. “On my crown, I am merciful.”

He spun and went to the door. He hit his knuckles on the thick wood and it was opened quickly from the other side.

“She will not face the rope,” he said, “But do see her to the dungeons.”

“Wait!” You nearly fell forward as you tried to stand, “You said I would have mercy–”

“And you do,” he turned sharply as the guard blocked the door with his arm. “I have given you your life.”

“A life in the dungeons–”

“A life beholden to me,” he said, “That was what you promised.”

He swiftly continued down the corridor and the guard came forward to lift you to your feet. You listened to the light footfalls of the king as he retreated and you were led out into the hallway. You were turned in the opposite direction and the walls seem to close in with each step.

_Who would ever call this mercy?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers.
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: Your sentence begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don’t know what I’m doing. I’m tryna keep up but tbh I am gonna be working a lot so updates might be inconsistent for the time being.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback<3

There were no windows in the dungeons. No time. No life.

Just you and the distant sounds of your fellow prisoners. A thick iron door closed you in the stone cell, a single slot let in a sliver of torchlight and your sole meal each day. A bowl of thin broth and a heel of moldy bread. You ate out of need though often regretted it as your stomach churned. You counted the days by the bowls but could not be certain how long you languished.

You smelled of sweat and the cell; dank and dingy. You slept sitting up, rarely at that, and filled the time with thoughts of doom. Of regrets and remonstrances. You should have let Gilla go on her own, _but could you live with the thought of her in your place?_ You should have stopped her and dragged her home. You should have climbed faster. You should have accepted death over this monotonous purgatory.

There was nothing you could do. It was over. You assured your own fate in your words. Your want to mock and appease the king’s pride had led you to error. The word, that one you’d never spoken before, a dagger on your tongue; ‘beholden’. _Was that what you were? What your imprisonment was?_ Your debt to your king.

Your feet were bare, damp, and cold. You recalled losing your clogs on the palace lawn. Your tunic felt thin and your pants clung uncomfortably to your legs. You kept your arms crossed over your knees as you sat in the corner. Sometimes your head would law and you would sink into a few moments of hazy slumber. Glimpses of life beyond the dungeon, of memories, sunlight and the kiss of pollen in your nose. But when you awoke, your prison only seemed darker and smaller. 

You heard yourself snoring as you dozed, your head heavy with exhaustion. The eerie nose of your snorts and snarls were quieted by the sudden metallic schlock as gears were turned by a key. You woke with a start, dizzy and confused. The door pushed inward and the clink of the guards armour underlined the grind of the hinges. 

A tall shadow entered, a length of cloth hung from his shoulders, a fine cape that suddenly shone as the guard hung a torch in the ring along the wall. The king walked cautiously around the confined space as if he would be tainted by your filth.

You uncrossed your arms and braced the wall. You struggled to stand as you shook away the sleep from your head. You groaned and staggered as you pushed your feet under you and stood. He chuckled as he stilled and watched your struggle.

“While I appreciate the effort, little mouse, it is expected that one bows to their king.” He mused.

You took a breath and stepped away from the wall. You did your best to bow but as you straightened up, your head swam. The torchlight made your eyes water and you felt as if you were trapped in some wretched dream.

“Are you unwell?” He asked tauntingly.

“Well enough, your majesty,” you answered, even if he held no true concern.

“I must apologize, I have been distracted by my kingly duties.” His green eyes clung to you as slowly the fog slaked away from your mind. They seemed brighter as the flame flickered along the wall. “I did not have the chance to consider your sentence.”

You swallowed and narrowed your eyes. You were slightly perplexed. You blinked and glanced around. “A cell, a meal, my life. I cannot bemoan my lot. Is it not what I asked for, your majesty?”

His lips curved wryly and he shook his head. “Ah, so you think that is your fate. That this hole is to be your existence?” He strode from wall to wall and grimaced. “Did I not agree to mercy?”

“You sent me here…” you uttered, “Your majesty, you said you would spare my life.”

“And I shall. I have.” He faced you again, “I have thought on what this new life should entail for you.”

You wrinkled your nose as you tried to untangle his words. He spoke in riddles and you were untrained in logic. You were no solicitor nor privileged enough to look upon a page. You folded your hands before you and waited for his explanation. You were realising how this man enjoyed the noise of his own voice.

“I thought of the laundries, the kitchens, the stables, even perhaps, a chambermaid to one of my lords or ladies. Consider that any position on my staff is one of prestige for any of your ilk. And I thought that a fine show of mercy but then… I thought more. You see, my staff is well-furnished, I would say I have an excess of servants. Too many hands for one broom.” He paused slid his tongue along his bottom lip. “Those wardens of my staff assured me of this conclusion.”

You watched him warily. He was playing with you. A cat dangling it’s wriggling prey as it considered how to devour it. A snake, rather.

“I will admit, that alongside the many duties that delayed me was this conundrum. This puzzle without a solution,” he continued as he took a step towards you. You resisted the urge to retreat or shy away from him. That was what he expected. “What do I do with this life thrust upon me? On the one I did promise my first act of mercy?”

You stared back at him as he neared. He was close. You smelled the earthy oils rubbed in his hair, the soft scent of gardenia that softened his musk. You bit down as you swallowed your impatience.

“It would not be just for you to serve another, as it were. That was not our barter. You swore yourself to me. And so I did ponder how exactly you might serve me…” His lashes flicked as his eyes descended briefly. “Your fashion does make one almost forget what lay beneath.”

You squirmed as his gaze returned to your face and your realised his meaning; salacious and repulsive. Your body went rigid as a deep sigh forced itself from your lungs.

“My own father kept a bed warmer for years. Especially in those years after my mother’s death.” He said coyly.

You glared at him and took a step back, you weren’t far between him and the wall. 

“I’d rather the cell,” you sneered.

He snickered and came closer. You continued backward until you met the stone. He leaned in until his nose almost met yours. “I’m not asking, little mouse. I am come to deal your sentence.”

“Then I refuse your mercy and would take the noose,” you insisted. “If mercy is what you would call it.”

“It is an honour for any, even the most dignified lady, to please her king,” his fingers crawled along the tails of your tunic and pressed more firmly to your hips, “It is more than mer--”

Your hand flew up before you could think. His touch made you recoil and his words reminded you of the sour broth you had gulped down only hours ago. He was stunned by the strike across his cheek but he stayed close. He winced only slightly as his eyes flared. His hand was at your throat in an instant.

“Don’t you fret, little mouse, I like the game,” he snarled, “And I suspect you will give me quite the chase.”

His hot breath grazed your lips as he held you against the wall. He stared you down and let out a fractured huff. He squeezed until your head swelled and released you sharply.

“If you do so prefer this cell, then you can remain.” He waved his fingers casually as he backed away, “The cell and nothing more.”

He felt along his belt and slowly revealed a long dagger as the metal whispered against the leather sheath. You gaped at the blade and as he came closer, you could not hide your fear. He pushed your hand away as you tried to keep him from you.

“If you resist, you will bloody yourself,” he scowled as he grabbed the collar of your tunic. “So be still.”

He hooked the dagger inside your tunic and tore through the fabric. The blade easily sliced open the wool and caught in your belt, only to snap it just as swiftly. You gasped as he shoved the fabric away from your shoulders. Your undershirt was thin and just as easily shorn away. You looked away as your shame seared across your flesh.

He was rough as he cut away your leggings and had you naked before him. You tried to cover yourself as he replaced his dagger at his belt. He grabbed your arms and pulled them above you as he gazed down at your naked form.

“Your first lesson, little mouse.” He slithered, “You must not strike your king.”

He smirked and dropped your arms. He turned and went to the door. He rapped with two knuckles and called for the guard. You sidled to the corner and crouched down as the door was opened. The guard appeared and the king directed him to collect your shredded clothing. 

“Bastard,” you whispered under your breath as the king made to leave. He stopped for a moment but said nothing before he passed into the corridor.

The guard took the armful of wool and cotton and retrieved the torch from the wall. You were shut up in the dark once more, shivering and shamed. You hung your head and cursed.

You could blame Gilla for getting you into this mess, but you were the one digging yourself deeper.

🐍

The meals still came but were harder to eat. You were always cold, always awake, always hungry, and yet always nauseous. You paced to keep warm, to keep your body from growing stiff, but often found yourself huddled once more in the corner.

When the door opened again, after maybe another week, maybe longer, maybe less, you didn’t move. It didn’t matter. The torch was set in the ring and the armoured steps neared you. There were two guards this time. The wrestled you to your feet and clasped your hands in a pair of shackles. You were turned to face the wall as the chain was secured to a hook above you. 

Your chest pressed to the cold stone as you hung on tiptoes. A gauntleted hand brushed your ass and you kicked blindly behind you.

“King’s property,” the second guard reproached, “He’ll have your hand.”

“Wench isn’t that pretty,” the other growled, “If I was king, I’d have a duchess every night.”

“You’re not king, thank the lord.” The men retreated to the door and left it ajar behind them.

You tried to free the shackles from the hook but only dangled weakly below. You knew it could not be a good omen. These were king’s orders. You could only expect that you were due for another visit.

As if your thought summoned him, you heard the soft swish of silk. His shadow flickered in the torchlight as he entered. You did not bother to look back. The king stopped feet from you as you watched his silhouette on the stone.

“I will forgive you this time for your lack of a bow,” he declared, “But know that it will be expected.”

He came closer and you shifted on your toes.

“You might utter a simple ‘your majesty’,” he warned.

“Your majesty,” you recited as your shoulder strained. You closed your eyes as you balled your hands.

“I am not one to expound upon my past but I think it prudent at this moment.” He paced behind you and his shadow flickered on your eyelids. “What was that darling little word you called me? ‘Bastard’?”

You cringed and exhaled. “Your majesty.”

“That was what you said? Correct?”

“Yes, your majesty,” you admitted.

He laughed, darkly, and his footsteps ceased.

“I am a second born son. I was a prince, not an heir. None expected me to come upon the throne. That word, that title, bastard, was my lot in life. Not because I was born too late, but because I did not share the golden hair of my family or truly any of their traits. That word was said to a child no more than five years old, and repeated until this very day.” You felt a tickle along your ass and a shiver rolled up your spine. “However most have the sense to whisper it beyond my hearing.” He pressed the cattail to your flesh and you felt the leather straps clearly, “Most.”

He pulled back and lashed you without pause. You bit your lip as you muffled a cry and threw your head back. He inhaled deeply and once more teased your skin with the limp straps.

“I don’t expect an apology. That means little from the lips of a peasant.” He said. “What I expect is discipline; obedience.” He rescinded the cattail again, “I came to hear you scream.”

He whipped you again and you pressed your forehead to the cold wall and whimpered. The shackles tinkled as you swayed on your tiptoes and he struck you once more. You grunted and gulped down a shriek. Perhaps it would be easier to scream, to give him what he wanted, but to think he had never been denied a luxury in his life, fed your obstinacy. If he wanted you to bend, you would not do so easily.

A fourth time, a fifth, a sixth. Your eyes welled and you lost count as you felt your skin split. He laid out the lashes across your back, your ass, and your thighs. The pain made you delirious as your head lolled and the strength drained from your body. You hung prone to his wrath.

When at last you cried out, you didn’t realise. It didn’t sound like you. You didn’t even feel the scream as it tore through your throat. You only knew that the assault had stopped. That blood and sweat trickled down your back.

He sighed, content. He came closer, slowly, and planted his hands on either side of you as he leaned in. He spoke against the back of your ear.

“You have a tough hide, little mouse,” he purred, “This will be more delightful than I ever expected.” He brushed your neck with his fingers, “Another lesson.”

He pushed himself away and you listened to the soft pad of his boots. You opened your eyes at last as the torch was smothered and the door clanged loudly into place. You were left as you were, bleeding and hung like some animal. Like a slab of meat before a feast.

_How long would it be before the king supped on you?_

🐍

You didn’t recall being let down. You only recalled the pain that roused you. The burning along your back and legs. The smell of brown broth that made you wretch from across the cell. The cold that made you shiver as it met your hot flesh. Your teeth chattered and you could not still yourself as your entire body quaked.

When the guard grabbed the bowl through the low slot of the door, the untouched broth spilled. The moldy bread remained in the puddle and you heard the grumble from the other side. When the next appeared, it was met with the same disgust. It was removed, as full as it arrived. A third and you were trapped in a cloud that grew thicker with each bat of your lashes.

When you woke again, you were no longer in the cell. The pain remained; greater as your back was wiped clean with wet linen. You murmured but could do nothing as you laid on your side and sank back into obscurity.

You blinked and there was a cloth on your forehead, the smell of herbs, and the hot taste as the heady brew was poured down your throat. Sleep again. A fever of frightening visions; of a shadow behind you, of the sharp bite of leather, the painful depth of unending hunger.

And when the chill left your body, when the daze seeped away, when you were returned to the world, you stared up at the ceiling in quiet confusion. There was a window, a bed beneath you, a blanket over you, and the smell of roses in the air. You groaned and tried to sit up. You fell back, dizzy.

A thin, short man appeared at the side of the bed. He felt your forehead and nodded. He disappeared and returned to you. He dropped a robe on the edge of the bed.

“Your fever is broken.” He said plainly. “You must bathe.”

“What? What is going--”

“The king is impatient. As am I. I haven’t time for your questions.” The man reproached. “It will take some time before a bath is drawn. You will be upon your feet by then.”

He marched away from you and disappeared through the door. You once more pushed yourself up on shaky arms and held your head until it was clear. You looked around at the chamber; there was an upholstered chair in the corner and a painted chest of drawers; a large metal tub and a folded screen against the wall.

You drew yourself from beneath the blankets and took the robe. You stood, unsteadily, holding yourself up on the side table near the bed as you pulled it on. 

The door opened again and a servant entered with a bucket of steaming water. Another followed in quick succession, and another. The train of maids quickly filled the metal tub and left just as they had come.

The man returned not long after. He snapped the door shut and his hands went to his hips in frustration.

“Get in,” he nodded to the tub. “You’ve wasted enough time.”

“Where am I? Who are you?” You asked as you stood.

“You remain in the king’s custody.” He snipped as he went to the tub and pulled the screen open to conceal it from the rest of the room. “Wash yourself and I will explain. Or I shall call a guard to help.”

You slowly made your way across the room and went behind the screen. You threw the robe over the top of the screen and carefully stepped into the tub. You nearly slipped as you lowered yourself into the hot water.

“You will scrub yourself and use the oil,” he ordered from the other side of the screen.

You took the small vial from the low stool and sniffed. It smelled of roses. You grabbed the sponge and went about washing yourself, gingerly as you wiped your tortured back. It was tender but not so raw as before.

“So… who are you?” You asked.

“You can call me Birger,” he replied as you heard him moving around, “I am the king’s footman and have been, for these past days, your keeper.”

“And how did I come to this chamber?”

“You were half-starved and feverish,” he said, “The king commanded that you were tended to so that you might survive the cell. Ever generous, he is.”

“Generous…” You mulled as you let the water ease your muscles.

“I know your crimes. I know he has shown you an unusual exception.” Birger explained. “Mercy had never been the king’s preferred method.”

“Mercy, is it?”

“I’ve seen him have others killed for less,” he countered coolly, “I do wonder why he should favour a peasant such as you. Alas, I have never worried much on the king’s thoughts. That is not my duty. I do as he wills me.”

“And you served him as a prince?” You prodded.

“Since he was barely more than a boy,” Birger confirmed. “Now be quick, we must have you dressed shortly.”

“Why the hurry?” You asked.

“Do you always ask so many questions? I never knew the king to favour it.”

You were quiet as you finished washing yourself. You climbed out of the tub, more steady on your feet than before, and pulled on the robe again.

“I will call for Liv to ready you.” Birger went to the door again. “You will dress before I return.”

He gestured to the bed and the sheer black fabric across it. The door closed behind him and you went to the bed. The dress was sparse and would barely hide your nudity, if at all. You lifted it and frowned at the cut. Thin straps held up the bodice, black embroidered with silver in a way that would obscure the more intimate parts of your chest. The waist form a vee above the skirts that were slitted along the sides. You rarely wore dresses and had certainly never dressed so scantily.

There were no undergarments. You reluctantly pulled on the gown, if it could be classed as such, and the door opened. You turned as Birger entered followed by a woman with orange hair. Liv, you assumed.

“Turn,” Birger ordered and marched over to you. He pulled tight the laces of the bodice and you gasped at his strength. He knotted them at the top and backed away. “Sit.” He pulled up the stool from behind the screen. “Liv,” he pointed at you and retreated to the other side of the room.

You sat on the stool and Liv opened the chest she carried in with her. She peered down at you as she considered its content.

“The king did say not to use too much,” Birger girded.

“Very well,” Liv retracted her hand from the pot of powder and instead took a stick of kohl. “Just the eyes and lips then. A touch of colour.” She bent over you and lifted your chin. “Look up,”

She ordered you around tersely as she lined your eyes and then painted your lips in a delicate pink. You were not afforded a glance in the mirror before you were ushered to your feet. Birger looked you over and shrugged. He took a pair of silver sandals from beside the bed and gave them to you.

“Better,” he remarked as you slipped on the sandals. “Come.”

He beckoned you forth with two fingers and to the door. A guard awaited you in the corridor and you were handed over to him without pretense. You hesitated and he grabbed your arm. You were directed down the hallways and up several sets of stairs. You were met by another guard before a large golden door with the kingdom’s crest inlaid into its face.

“The king was called away,” the guard said to the other, “He has permitted her to wait in his receiving chamber.”

The other grumbled and nudged you forward. The king’s guard pushed open the door and pointed you inside. He shoved you when you did not budge. You stumbled past the door and it slammed behind you. You turned back and deflated. Slowly, you looked around.

An ebony desk carved with silver snakes, a grand chair behind it; a set of sofas before a hearth and low table; a finely woven carpet, side tables along the walls beneath portraits of the king and his predecessors; each piece of furniture was finer than the last.

Opposite the doors you’d come through, was another set. These were painted with hundreds of snakes, hissing and baring their fangs. You could see that the oil was recently applied. You could guess what was on the other side.

You gulped as you neared the hearth and stared above it. A portrait of the king stared back at you, his dark locks hung pristinely from beneath his horned crown and his green eyes bore into you as he seemed to watch you in turn.

It was a fine chamber but no less a cell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers. (This chapter: oral)
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You await the king’s next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day off. Managed to get this done!
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

When at last you managed to look away from the likeness of the imperious king, you tried to sit. You found it hard to stay still however and instead, paced the expanse of the chamber. You stopped at the tall windows to look out onto the palace lawns, a glimpse of the city visible beyond the walls. _Would you ever see the other side of them again?_

You looked down at yourself as you swept away from the glass panes. The gaudy gown made you grimace and you went back to your restless strides. You rung your hands and made yourself stop, fidgeted with the thin fabric that swished around your legs, and squinted closely at the few pieces of miscellany scattered on tables; a few pens, a ring, and a bound book.

The sound of boots came muffled from the corridor and you turned as the doors shifted. The guard without pushed inward and stood back as the king swept past him. You stopped behind the sofa and watched Loki as he didn’t seem aware of your presence. A boy, about fifteen or so, followed at his heels and barely evaded the snap of the doors as they shut.

You bowed and waited for his acknowledgement. You received none as you kept your head down and followed him with strained eyes as he crossed to the set of doors painted with winding snakes. The young boy opened them and the king disappeared beyond them, though they remained ajar.

You waited, hands folded, chin lowered, and listened. The soft rustle of clothing, the ruffle of activity unseen. It was a time before the king bid away his servant.

“Go.” His voice slithered through the silence, “Fetch my dinner, boy.”

You held your breath as the adolescent emerged and swiftly crossed to the other doors. He left you there and another deathly hush rose around you, laced with anticipation and impatience. You heard soft footsteps approach the open doorway and halt upon the threshold.

“Little mouse,” the king said cloyingly, “You might stand up straight now.”

You bit down and raised your head. Your eyes met his as he smirked across at you. He wore a deep green robe embroidered with golden serpents, tied loosely at his waist to allow a glimpse of his pale torso. His silk pants were loose as finely stitched slippers poked out from beneath the hems. His crown did not top his locks as they hung loosely along his shoulders.

“Why, you do look much recovered,” he purred as he casually pushed away form the doorframe, “Better, even.” He did not come close, merely went to the table and pulled out a chair to perch. He slung a leg over the other as he bent an elbow on the tabletop. “I was, most irritatingly, called away to council.”

You were quiet. You stayed on the other side of the couch as if it were a barricade from his lingering gaze.

“Come closer,” he beckoned with two fingers, “I should like a proper look at… the gown.”

You hesitated. Your flesh, though healing, was still tender along your back. You went to him with careful steps and stopped a foot away from him. He looked you up and down. He reached out and his fingers closed around your wrist and he drew you between his legs as he uncrossed them.

His fingertips flew quickly to the beading along your bodice and he traced the curve of your side. He hummed as he peered up at you, your chest obscuring you slightly.

“Hmmm, I think I preferred you naked and chained,” he snickered. “Do you feel me still? Is the lesson still seared into your flesh, little mouse?”

Your lip curled and you swallowed. You nodded.

“Speak, when you are addressed by your king.” He demanded.

“Yes, your majesty,” you uttered, “The marks remain.”

He bunched your skirts in his hands and bared your thighs. He tickled your skin and pushed firmly to knead the muscle.

“Alas, I did send for my supper and I would not the boy happen upon my little games,” his thumb grazed the crease of your pelvis, “He is innocent and easily frightened.”

You stood, tolerant of his touch, as you felt a peculiar tingle inside. Disgust laced with something more; something you wanted to deny. His hands dropped reluctantly and he shifted in his seat.

“You will sit and eat. I understand you did little of that during your internment,” he said sharply, “I suspect it is the reason you had to be dragged out of there. That I did need to charge my staff with reviving you.”

“Must be the reason,” you muttered as you sat in the other chair across from him. You caught the gleam in his eye. “Your majesty.”

“Throughout your tenure here, thus far, I’ve a chance to learn more of the errant trespasser,” he preened, “Your uncle, Bo, he is a crafter and a merchant. You were charged with shaping clay pots for his shelf. Your little friend, Gilla, she is a baker’s daughter. I did not care much for her though.”

“Gilla…” you repeated quietly. “You…”

“I did not harm her. I only asked her some questions.” 

The door opened suddenly and he sat up. The boy was accompanied by two other servants who set out wine, glasses, and plates. The flurry of activity departed as quickly as it had arrived and you were left alone once more with the king.

“She’s a talkative one but she does not say much of substance,” he mused as he took his fork, “But I still learned much.”

“Oh?” You twirled your fork anxiously.

“Nothing more than I couldn’t surmise on my own,” he shrugged, “I’ve come to realise your obstinacy.” He mused, “And let me say, that will not hold and I do look forward to testing it.”

You frowned and he bit into a morsel of pork. He chewed and swallowed emphatically.

“Oh, that look,” he pointed at you with his fork, “It assured me I am right.”

🐍

Your stomach was both happy and sore from the meal. It had been long since you had eaten much more than broth and hard bread, if anything at all. While the food was delicious, the circumstance was less than. You found it less than hospitable to be under the gaze of the king. Though he was not so intent, his eyes returned often enough to make you worry. You were wise enough to know that when the meal was over, there would be no pretense left, though you could not guess exactly at what he meant to do.

The young boy, who he called Hal, cleared the table and left another bottle of wine in his stead. Loki poured another glass for himself and glanced at the one you’d barely touched.

“I’d suggest you drink but truly it makes no difference to me,” he winked as he took a gulp of his own. “But you do seem rather… antsy.”

You said nothing and took the glass. You drank deeply and nearly spluttered. You drained the cup and placed it back on the table.

“I do not enjoy your ploys, your majesty, I would prefer you be to the point,” you said, “I am not naïve and the idea would be entirely unknown to you.”

“Ploys? To the point? I haven’t an idea of what you mean, little mouse.”

You drew your brows together and blinked. “If you long to see me squirm, I already am.”

“Oh, I do see it but I will not be done with you so quickly,” he threw back the last of his glass and set it beside your own, “Come.”

He took your head and led you to the door of his bedchamber. You had the urge to stop before you could enter but let him guide you. The black drapings of his bed, the silver sheets, and the lush pillows assured you of your fate. You knew what would come but you could not fathom the extent of his cruelty.

It was said that it hurt the first time for maidens. You suspected the pain would be worse with him. He didn’t make anything easy. He always added to any discomfort. He pleasured in it.

“Squirming, shaking, or shivering, mouse?” he wondered as he neared the bed and you trailed behind him. He tugged you onward. “Is it fear? It must be for there is no draft.”

“Stop, stop, please,” you said breathily, “Do not draw this out any further.”

He tilted his head as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He released you and untied his robe and lifted himself to drag the tails from under him. He tossed it away and sprawled across the mattress with a sigh. He sidled over and bent an arm behind his head. You tried to ignore the bulge in his silk pants as he rubbed the space beside him.

“I had the impression that you already slept for quite a time but… I suppose the dungeon still takes a toll,” he remarked, “Lay down, little mouse. You might put out the light before you do.”

You looked around and went to the lamp on the round table in the corner. You blew it out and the silver slats of moonlight lit your path back to the bed. You slid your slippers off before you touched the woven blanket. You lifted a knee onto the mattress and the king gripped your wrist again. He pulled you down against him in a single motion.

“I am rather tired. My day did stretch on,” he said as he nestled you against him. His other hand went down and rested over his crotch. He rubbed himself and groaned. “A good night’s sleep would do us both well.”

He retracted his hand and pulled your arm across his torso. The taut muscles of his stomach were warm against your skin and sent a tickle along your spin.

“The nights of late summer do tend to grow chilly,” he reached over and played with the embroidery of your bodice. “And I find myself restless.”

He let out a long breath and the tension left his body. You laid in silence, eyes wide as you waited for him to do something. Anything. A rumble went through his chest and made you flinch. He chuckled.

“In due time, little mouse,” he promised, “Our games are not over yet.”

🐍

You didn’t recall dozing but you awoke gently to stirring beside you. The king slipped his arm from beneath you carefully. You were surprised by his caution. The bed moved slightly as he shimmied to the other side and stood. He moved in the dark as you remained as you were.

He rounded the bed and paused. He slid his hand along your thigh, your skirts tangled in your legs. He drew away and you listened to him retreat to the bath chamber. There was the subtle swish of water and dainty activity beyond. You wanted to fall back asleep and escape the odd reality.

Then you heard more. A low groan that soon grew to laboured breaths. It went on for several minutes. You crushed your head into the pillow as you tried not to listen. A stifled grunt ended the illicit rhythm. Another sigh.

He didn’t emerge for a few more minutes. He went into the receiving chamber and you heard the other set of doors creak. Shortly, you heard the thin voice of the boy, Hal, and the king returned to let the boy dress him. You watched him by his shadow in the early morning light.

“Go to Birger and fetch the rest of the girl’s wardrobe,” he bid, “I expect that all will be put away before my return. Bring her some food when she wakes and ask Birger to help you, should you require it.” The king strode to the door and stopped again, “And make sure the guards remain on watch. She is more trouble than she seems.”

You laid still until you were certain they were gone, though Hal remained in the receiving chamber. You wouldn’t fall back asleep. You were too on edge. So you stared up at the ceiling and brushed your arm over the spot where Loki had slept beside you. 

It hadn’t been at all what you expected. It was like you were holding your breath, waiting for the tension to snap the branch beneath you. Waiting for Loki to be just who you knew him to be. The king who had lashed you in the dungeon, the arrogant prince who demanded and got all that he wanted.

When you dared to rise and poked your head out into the next chamber, the boy hopped up from where he sat before the hearth. You were careful not to take long steps as the skirt threatened to bare more than you wanted. 

“You don’t have to,” you waved him down, “I can tend to myself.”

“I must bring your morning meal,” he insisted. “As the king wishes.”

“The king,” you mulled as you took a seat at the table, “Is he kind to you?”

He narrowed his eyes and thought, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose he is crueler to others so yes.”

“That is hardly kindness,” you said.

“I’ve had worse masters,” Hal replied. “And less rich.”

You nodded and ran your fingernail along the tabletop. “Well then…” You tapped the wood, “Go on then.”

The boy left and you let out your breath. You hung your head and rubbed your eyes. You listened to the morning birds and the breeze in the leaves. You knew the calm would give way soon to a great storm.

🐍

After you picked at a hard-boiled egg and some rashers, Hal returned with Birgir. They carried a large chest between them and set it down heavily before a painted armoire in the bedchamber. You watched as they hung the silks, satins, and brocades. Slippers were placed along the lower shelves and a few cloaks slung alongside the numerous gowns.

Birger bid you change your outfit and you placated him if only to rid yourself of his disapproval. You dressed in a burgundy dress with a similar cut as the first. None offered much more coverage, often less, and you scowled at the thought of donning them. You tucked your feet into a pair of slippers and washed your face of the make-up that remained from the previous day.

You were once more alone and left to languish in the king’s empty chambers. You thought of the dungeon. At least that was not a farce. At least the dank, dripping depths did not try to disguise your sentence.

You pulled the curtains back from the glass doors in the bedchamber. A balcony stood without as the sun peaked. You slowly turned the curved handle and pulled them open. You stepped out tentatively and looked around. You inhaled the scent of the wind and pollen. You hadn’t been outside in so long that you were overcome with nostalgia, with longing and dread. 

_Would you ever know what it was to run across the grass again? To watch the rivers flow and dream of following them?_

You went to the rail and looked down at the trimmed lawns and their pristine hedges and the beds of colourful buds. Birds danced along the rims of the fountain and other critters dove in and out of the maze of greenery. You leaned your elbows on the marble rail and stared down. It was far; far enough to kill.

You looked at the balcony, at the slates of the railing, at any foothold that might be found along the wall. You bent further over as you tried to spy those below and if they were close enough to land. Your thoughts ventured to escape, as risky as it might be, and you were want to laugh at your foolishness.

You felt something in your skirts, then a firm grip on your ankles. Suddenly you were tipped over the edge and you cried out as you were certain you would plummet to your death. You grabbed onto the marble slats as you we held dangling over the rail and you looked up at your accoster.

The king guffawed at your fear as you clung to the side of the balcony and slowly pulled your feet back over to the other side. His hand slid up your leg and ass and he grabbed the back of your bodice as he drew you up straight. He caught your hand before you could slap him.

“Now, now,” his hand crushed yours, “Did we not already learn this lesson?”

“You could’ve killed me!” You whined.

“I could’ve. And still could,” he smirked as he trapped you against the rail. “There is much I could do to you.”

You stared at him in disgust as he pressed his body to yours. His hand went to your chin and he framed your face with his long fingers.

“I could bend you back over this bannister and let my kingdom hear what it is I want to do to you,” he sneered. “Gods, the thought has me harder than last eve.”

He dragged his thumb over to your lips and poked inside your mouth. You resisted for a moment, until it hurt, and he pressed down on your tongue.

“If you were to be on your knees, no one should see you,” he said, “They wouldn’t know why it was you kneel before me…”

You swallowed as your stomach filled with bile. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and took a step back.

“So on your knees for your king,” he pushed apart the tails of his overcoat and lifted the bottom of his tunic as he unlaced his trousers, “I’ve been rather patient and it is not a habit I know well.”

You stared in aghast as he rubbed himself through his trousers and winced. His eyes flicked back to you and his face darkened.

“I said ‘on your knees’,” he barked, “Little mouse, you must really start obeying me or I shall have to repeat that lesson.”

You slowly bent your leg and rigidly got down to your knees. He pushed open the front of his trousers and stepped close. You stared at the ground as he pulled himself free and stroked his length. He grabbed your chin again and forced your head up. You tried not to look at his member bobbing in your vision.

“Open that trite little mouth. I will make better use of it than your bitter words,” he squeezed and you gasped at the sharp twinge it sent through your skull.

You opened your mouth and he pressed his tip to your lips. He rested it there and rubbed it back and forth teasingly. You closed your eyes and he slapped your cheek lightly with his fingers.

“No, no, keep those eyes open,” he demanded, “They look so nice staring up at me.” He slid slowly inside your mouth, “So frightened. I daresay, you look, almost, innocent.”

He pushed further in until he was at your throat. You gagged and he went deeper with a snicker. He gripped your head with one head as he thrust to his limit and your eyes welled as you struggled to breathe around him. You’d never done anything with a man more than a playful peck on the lips. You never spent very much time thinking of more.

He eased you back and you took a deep gulp of air before he invaded your throat again. The sickly noise of your spit and his member was repulsive. His eyes held yours as he moved his hips slowly and you latched onto his belt to keep from slipping.

“Little mouse, I only hope your mouth is an omen of what else you have to offer,” he purred as he rocked his pelvis, “A delight…”

Each thrust felt deeper than the last, harder, faster. His groans rose in the warm air as he was encouraged by his own voice. He grew louder as your eyes threatened to roll back and his face contorted in his pleasure. He kept a hand on your jaw and the other on the back of your head as he used your mouth.

You were dizzy as his intrusion felt as if it would never end. He threw his head back and you dared to close your eyes as your mouth turned salty. His voice rose louder and louder and filled your head. He dipped down your throat and his motion staggered. He gripped you tightly and moaned as he emptied himself down your throat.

He grunted with his few final jerks and pulled out sharply. He released you just as quickly and you fell to the side as he backed away and panted. You coughed his seed up onto the stone as he watched you. You could feel his shadow as he neared and you looked up as he cradled his glistening member.

“You’ve made such a mess, little mouse,” he reproached, “I shall forgive it this time, but the next, you won’t muddy my floors so.”

You choked as you sat back on your heels and stared at him with wet eyes. Your throat ached horribly and your head still spun.

“Go on, clean me up, darling,” he looked down at his cock in his hand. “I suspect I am late already.”

You shoved your repulsion down and neared him on your knees. He angled his tip back to your lips and you took him again in your mouth. You pressed your tongue to his member and slowly pulled back as you lapped up the last of his cum. He guided you up and down a few times and relented once more. 

He parted from you again, content, and tucked himself away in his trousers. As he laced himself up, he cleared his throat.

“Well, little mouse, I will say, I’ve done little for my patience,” he chuckled, “I do suggest you might have some wine before I return again… it is said to dull the pain.” He neatened his tunic and overcoat and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I promise, there will be a lot of pain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, violence, oral, a bit of degradation)
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: Loki closes in on his prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing my best to update something every few days. I’ll probably switch it up here and there and try to get to other series old and new as well. I won’t be answering any asks about updates but I am working on lots between work so I appreciate the patience.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

You cleaned up the balcony for fear that Hal or another servant would happen upon your mess. You were aware that they would have little misconception about your position but you had no desire to flaunt your shame. It might not be your choice but others would not know that nor would they easily assume. 

‘Bed warmer’; that was what he’d said. He’d assured you of it upon his last visit. You were nothing more than a whore to him and undoubtedly, to any other who knew of your existence in the palace. Your only comfort was that you might hide from prying and judging eyes for the duration of your service. 

_How long would that be? And after, what would you be left to?_

You sat on the ledge of the window and stared out. The sunlight faded slowly, the summer lingered still. Even so, you could feel it was late. The king’s absence fed the dread deep in your chest and assured you that with each minute that passed, his return would come with inevitable zeal.

He promised you pain and had proven himself to be a selfish and sinister man. A man never told no, even to that one thing which had never been promised to him, the crown. _How could he expect anything other than to be sated in his every need?_

When the door handle turned and drew your attention from the ruffling leaves below, you stood. You watched Loki enter with the young boy, Hal, at his elbow The king’s day deepened the small lines around his eyes and brought out the vein on his forehead. 

Hal removed his cloak and hung it and Loki fell heavy onto the sofa. He was skilled at ignoring all around him until they were required. Including you. He waved away the boy with his fingers and sighed.

“Fetch me wine for the night. I have little appetite…” He let his head loll and his eyes sparked as he saw you standing anxiously by the window, “Do you require anything to nibble on, little mouse?”

You shook your head but quickly corrected yourself. You cleared your throat and spoke carefully. “No, your majesty.”

“Very well,” he flicked away the servant and spread his arms over the back of the couch. The boy left and Loki hummed at the ceiling. You watched his profile as he closed his eyes. “I cannot lie. Our noontime delight did tide me over as the day stretched on. And how it did make it seem longer too.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you again. He smirked.

“Just a taste and I want more, like a sweet tart secreted from the sill or a sip of ale stolen by a child. A simple craving turns to an irresistible hunger.”

You squirmed and he beckoned you close. You watched him warily as he pulled at his overcoat with one hand and unbuttoned the high collar.

“Sit with me. I should like a drink before we proceed.” He said and his lithe fingers worked down the front of his coat. “I must wash away this tension, little mouse, and you might drown your fear.”

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the couch as he let his overcoat droop and reveal his tunic beneath. His fingers ran along the back of our gown and he sat forward slightly as he snaked his arm around you. He pulled you against him as he reclined again and grabbed your chin as he made you look at him.

“I like that.” His nose was close to yours, “The way you try to hide your emotions. That artificial bravery that cannot still your fidgeting fingers or that tic in your cheek. It assures me that you are truly afraid of me, little mouse…” His hot breath grazed your lips, “As you should be.”

“I am not afraid of you,” you uttered, “I am appalled… your majesty.”

He chuckled and a rap came at the door. He parted from you, his hand slipped down to rest on your hand and he pulled it onto his thigh as he called for his servant to enter. Hal came in and set down the bottle of wine and the pair of cups. He was dismissed with a nod.

Alone again, Loki pulled your hand up his leg and forced it over his growing bulge. He snickered as he hardened against your palm.

“My patience wears thin,” he groaned, “So pour us some wine before my thirst is forgotten.”

You drew away as he released you and stood. You poured the wine to the brim and returned to Loki. He took his glass and pointed you to the cushion again. He drank smoothly as you nearly choked on the acrid alcohol. You pulled the cup from your lips and crinkled your nose. The king chuckled and reached to set aside his empty goblet on the side table. 

He pushed on the bottom of your cup until it was once more at your lips. “I recommend you drink but do not require it. Perhaps, I should enjoy you sober and petulant.”

You gulped again but quickly recoiled. He laughed again and took the glass from you. There was still quite a bit of wine sloshing around in it as he placed it beside his empty one.

“Get undressed for me, little mouse,” he stood and shrugged out of his overcoat.

You hesitated and flinched as his face turned stern. You rose as he slung his jacket over a chair and pulled the tails of his tunic loose from his trousers and unbuckled his belt. You strained as you bent your arms back but only managed to tangle your fingers in the laces.

He neared and turned you. He expertly unknotted the top of the laces and your bodice slackened. You caught the dress as it drooped down your chest and reluctantly let it slip further. You stepped out of the skirts and he gathered the fabric from the floor. He tossed it over his jacket as you avoided looking at him.

You felt his warmth along your back as he came close and his fingertips brushed lightly along the scars that lined your skin. The ones he’d left there. Those which might never go away. He pressed his thumbs more firmly to the lacerations and traced them down to your ass.

He exhaled and his hand stretched around your hips as he gripped them firmly. He edged you toward the couch until your legs met it. He nudged you until you lifted your knees onto the cushion. It was like you were in a trance; the thought to stop him was overpowered by that which wanted it all to just be over.

“You are healing nicely,” he purred, “A reminder of me when I am kept for too long from you, little mouse.”

You lowered your head as your lip curled. You latched onto the back of the couch and clawed the cushion. 

“I feel the anger in you,” he slithered. “I long for it. A sharp tongue calls for a sharper strike. Should I use my hand or another toy?”

You stiffened as his hand crawled back up to your shoulders and he squeezed them as he leaned in. 

“Or should I give into my basest desires and leave all patience behind. I could be inside you in a moment. I could have you screaming with a different pain. One which would soon enough be pleasure. An insatiable need.” He hooked his arms under yours and cupped your chest. “Funny, how peasants differ little from ladies. You have the same curves, the same want of a man.” He nuzzled the back of your head, “Perhaps the cunt is tighter? Wetter? Sweeter?”

You snarled and he pinched you. You swatted him away without thinking and he caught your wrist. He twisted your arm against your back until you whined.

“Come on, mouse, fight me,” he sneered, “Give me a little entertainment.”

You bit down but remained still. You huffed and stared at the carpet on the other side of the couch.

“The ladies never do. They’re too proper. Even as a prince, they were all too eager. Of course, they thought their kisses, their words, would lead to something other than a carnal revelation. They thought of contracts and prestige but I only wanted the flesh. They are too proper, too polite to resist.” He pushed on your arm and a pang went through your shoulder, “And when I fucked them, they only cried. Silently. No matter, I’d rather the back of their heads.”

Your insides roiled and the thought of this man, this monster called king, doing to you what he proudly boasted of doing to countless others had you livid. You could not resign yourself to the shame. If he never had to work for anything, he would have to now.

You swung your leg back and your heel met his thigh bluntly. He let go of you with a surprised grunt and you spun, kicking out again. He barely dodged your foot and you were quick to stand. The back of his hand split your lip and you stumbled but not far as you threw your elbows up into his ribs. His second strike missed as you ducked away and struggled to gain your bearings.

You flung a fist out at him and he batted you away. He swept your feet out from beneath you with one of his and you landed with a gasp as the air rushed from your lungs.

“Do you not recall our first lesson? You do not strike a king.” He taunted and stood above you. “If you do, you should hit a lot harder.”

He jabbed your side with the toe of his boot and chuckled. He lifted his tunic over his head and tossed it away. He paced around you and as you tried to sit up, he kicked you back down.

“Shall I have you on the floor? A beast like you belongs there.” He spat, “Oh, dear, are you angry?”

He bent and grabbed your arms. He pulled you up to your feet, leaving you light-headed as he stared you down.

“Go on and try again. Your venom only feeds my own.” He leaned in and his cheek brushed yours as he lowered his voice, “And this snake is meaner than any.”

You pushed on his chest and he shoved you away. You collided with the side table at the end of the couch and wine splashed across your front. He followed you and kicked your ass so that you fell atop the the table entirely, leaving it overturned as you writhed on the floor.

“I’d use your mouth again but you seem like to bite, little mouse,” he chortled. “Oh, but I have waited for that which makes you a woman.”

“You’re… disgusting,” you choked out as he planted a boot on your chest and pinned you to the floor. 

“Perhaps but those words mean little from a heathen like you. Tell me, how many men have known you, hmm? A peasant like you? Perhaps a butcher? A forger? Several, even?”

“Get--” You grunted as you grasped his boot, “Off.”

“Do be honest. There is no number which could tarnish you further. You cannot possibly sink lower, little mouse.”

“St-stop,” you pleaded as he pushed down and you found it even harder to breathe.

“Tell me,” he said, “Hmm? More than one? Perhaps five?” He peered down at you and smirked, “Is it more? In the tens?”

You wheezed and shook your head. You kicked out as silver dots floated around your vision. “N-n-none!” You gasped, “None.”

He relented but kept his foot where it was. He laughed. Loudly. He shook his head and scoffed.

“No man?” He said wryly, “Oh, the elusive untouched maiden.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you snarled.

“A mouth like that on a creature so pure,” he bent and grabbed you by the throat.

He lifted you to your feet and spun you. He forced you over to the table and your middle met it with a thud. You bent over as once more the air was driven from you. His hand was on your ass as he pressed his crotch against you and rocked.

“I do like this angle but wonder if it better to look you in the eye as I pluck your flower,” he kept his hips moving and moaned, “See the pain, the fear, the realisation that you are completely and utterly mine.”

He reared back and slapped your ass. You whimpered at his strength as your hips knocked against the wooden table. He raised his hand again but was halted by a sudden knock. He paused and let out a thick breath. He struck you again. The knock came again. Louder.

“I told my guard, I was not to be disturbed,” he growled.

“Oh, your majesty,” the sing song came through the door, “I have a message for you.”

“Fuck,” Loki swore and backed away. You turned your head to watched him as he pushed his shoulders back, “That fool.”

You didn’t move as he snatched up his tunic and replaced it over his torso. He glanced at you and snapped his fingers. He pointed to the bedroom and you stood straight. He lifted a brow in a final warning.

You shakily retreated and ambled through the doors. You stayed close as you listened. You couldn’t stop quaking. The adrenaline was ice in your veins but seeped away and uncovered the flames of agony licking at your body.

“What is it, you dolt?” The door whipped open in tandem with Loki’s words.

“Why, it is I, your brother’s most beloved companion, aside from his wife, of course, and a message for his most esteemed brother, the king,” the man sounded like a jester.

“Lord Fandral, I do command that you are to the point and do not continue on in this mockery.” Loki tutted.

“Oh, you have not changed,” the lord, Fandral, quipped, “As dour and dull as ever.”

“But a king now so do be on with it.”

“I have been sent to present to you a humble invitation to your brother’s own tournament upon the celebration of his new marriage. He does apologize for the short notice but it would not take you much long than a day and a night to arrive which is why I did insist upon my interruption… I do assume I have disturbed some going on.”

“If I accept this ridiculous proposal, will you be gone?”

“Oh, I must, your brother does await the answer and I would be away tonight to insure you do not arrive before me. You see, the tournament does commence in three days thus. You do want to make the lists, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, go. Let him know that I will appear.” Loki huffed. “At once before I change my mind and have your head sent back instead.”

“As amiable as ever, your majesty,” the other man said, “Do continue on in your… well, whatever it is you do for fun.”

The door snapped shut quickly and you staggered away from the door as you heard the king’s footsteps beneath the muttered curses. His shadow appeared in the dim and you pressed yourself to the wall. You eyed the door behind him, the balcony to your left. 

“Get in the bed,” he snipped. “If I must drag you, you will not drag yourself from it.”

You shuddered and forced yourself away from the wall. Loki undressed fully as you neared the bed and climbed over the covers. He was quick as he followed and met you from the other side. He shoved you onto your back and held you there with his hand across your throat. His hot breath glossed over your cheek as his fingers flitted to your chin and he squeezed.

He growled and let go. He flopped onto his back beside you and laid silently. Stewing. You watched his silhouette in the dark.

“My brother does ruin everything,” he whispered. “I am so… riled I can barely focus and…” he bit his lip and stopped himself. “Use your hand.”

“Wha--”

“Or your mouth. I don’t care, I only need to cum,” he closed his eyes. “And not think of what my brother has laid on my plate for the morrow.”

You grimaced and reached over blindly. You kept your eyes on the ceiling as you gripped his hard member and he winced at your touch.

“Tighter,” he murmured.

You did as he bid and slowly moved your hand up his length and back down. You thought of the balcony. At least it was only your hand. You stroked him as he groaned beside you, as his voice floated in the moonlight, and the night air skimmed over your bodies. He wrapped his finger around yours and guided you faster.

You kept the motion as his hand dropped back down and you felt his climax building as he trembled. He grunted as he reached over and kneaded your hip. He bent his legs slightly as he erupted and his warm cum dripped over your knuckles and along your palm. He stopped you and spasmed as he tried to catch his breath.

“You will fetch a rag and clean me before I sleep,” he said, “And we will continue our little game another day.”

🐍

You awoke with a heat wrapped around you. The king’s arm clung to you as there was a prodding further down. You could feel his arousal along the curve of your ass. You tried not to fidget in fears you would rouse him more or wake him. You laid, helpless and watched the early dawn light on the wall.

“It is merely a nocturnal habit,” Loki said as his arm tightened around you. “But, I suppose, your presence does evoke it as well.”

You scowled and said nothing.

“You slept heavily. Rather loudly.” He mused. “I had to roll you over to ease your snorts.”

“You might send me back to the dungeon if I see you sleepless,” you suggested.

“I did not say I was,” he countered, “I slept well enough.”

He drew away from you and the bed shifted as he turned his back to you and hung his legs over the edge. You rolled onto your back as the blanket crumpled around his back and you watched him. He stretched and shook out his black waves. He stood, unabashed by his erection, and went to the window.

“On the road by noon.” He said, “A brief rest on the roadside and the sojourn will not be more than a day.”

You stayed as you were. It might be his bed but it was the most comfortable you’d ever known. Besides, you were unsure of what else to do.

“The party needn’t be very large. Some guards and a few companions.” He spoke to himself as he picked at the window frame and stared out. “Of course, my armor will have to be polished and--” He pulled away and looked back to you on the bed. He smirked. You sat up, alarmed by his sudden interest. “And you will need a chest.”

“Pardon?”

“You must accompany me, of course. As my bed warmer.” He neared the bed and loomed over you. “Did you truly think I’d leave you behind? What in all the gods’ names would you do?”

You frowned and bent your legs to your chest. What would you do indeed.

“In an unfamiliar castle, my bed will certainly need warming and… my brother is the very being that does know how to irk me entirely. I will need the… respite.” Loki lowered himself back to the bed. “And there is so much undone.”

You couldn’t hide your discomfort. You watched him recline across the bed as you stayed huddled at the top of the mattress.

“I don’t understand…” you said quietly.

“Understand what?” He looked over at you with his discerning green eyes.

“Why you didn’t leave me in the dungeon? Or send me to the laundries or the stables?”

He considered you a moment and exhaled. “Well, you are of little use to me in either and I do see use in you. As king, it is prudent only to surround yourself with those who can further your own purpose; be it pleasure or otherwise.”

His answer made you sick. You were an object. A commodity. _Well, you were just a peasant, what did you expect?_

“And, was your life so glorious before? Were your clay pots and simple companions so amusing? Never touched? Did you ever expect it, at the least?” He challenged.

“Commoners do not marry so early as nobles,” you said quietly.

“Oh, but surely by your age they have considered it? Tell me, do I tread on another man’s grass? Is there some secret betrothal I do not know about? Or perhaps just a tryst unconsummated?”

You pursed your lips and begrudgingly shook your head. You kept your eyes on the blanket as he rolled onto his side and looked at you closer.

“I have done you a favour,” he said, “And I am not in the habit of favours so you might be thankful for it.”

“You would make me a whore. I could’ve done the same in any alleyway.”

“You will find no kings in your alleys,” he girded, “Nor silks, satins, or furs. I offer you all despite your crimes and you think I take from you. I have given you more than you know. You, little mouse, are not the prize in this game, I am.”

You looked at him and blinked. He ran his finger along the blanket that hung over your leg. He tugged until it fell down your knees. You shivered as you thought to grab it and pull it back to your body but he was quick. He pushed your legs apart despite your resistance and you fought with him as he moved between them, his head by your thighs.

His hands hooked over your thighs as he held them apart and he beamed up at you. He licked his lips and pulled himself closer. You felt his breath along your folds as he held your gaze. He lowered his head slowly and you squirmed as he hovered just along your cunt.

“What--”

He poked his tongue between your folds and dragged it up along your bud. You gasped at the peculiar sensation and he did it again, this time circling the sensitive bump. You grasped the pillows as he watched you and continued on, teasing and toying with his tongue. As he pressed his lips around your bud and suckled, you squeaked and you fell flat on the pillows.

“What are you--” You were breathless as he lapped at you and hummed, sending a thrill up your spine.

Your back arched without thought and your hand flew down to grip your own thigh as it pushed against his head. He held onto your legs as he hugged them and closed his eyes as he devoured you. Your eyes rolled back and you dug your heels into the mattress. You lifted your pelvis as you were driven wild by the flurry in your core.

You moaned and whined pathetically as he took control of your body. As he lured you closer and closer to an unknown release. A coil wound tighter and tighter inside of you until finally it snapped. You felt the pleasure flow from you as he drank it up and the tension left your body in an instant as the waves crashed over you.

You bent your arms across your chest and held yourself in your shock; in the sheer ecstasy that had overcome you. You panted and felt suddenly cold as he removed himself from between your legs. You peeked over at him as he sat up and wiped his glistening lips. His mouth curved deviously as he met your gaze.

“I am not the only in need,” he preened, “Though the need is so much more dire when you know what exactly it is you long for, isn’t it?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, slight oral, handjob/fingering, degradation)
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You leave the capital but you can’t break away from your keeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I can work on my masterlist updates today! So keep an eye out on @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor on tumblr
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback<3

The king hadn’t been gone long before your departure was set and the palace set to readying the horses and their riders. Loki presented you with a maid’s dress and apron and had you dress the part for the journey to his brother’s manor of Thunder Lodge.

“Keep your head down,” he bid as you changed, “If any should wonder why you are unfamiliar, you will explain that you have recently been re-allocated among the staff. When we do arrive, if any do question your duties, you will say you tend to one of the lords.” 

There were a dozen servants in the cart with you, packed in among chests and other luggage. As you rocked with its motion, you could see him and hear his voice still.

“Do not mention me. Once all is settled, you will join me and remain in my chambers until we return to the road.” He fixed his hair in the glass as he spoke. He was agitated as he continued to find ways to keep his hands busy. “And at last, I might show you truly the extent of your sentence.”

You squeezed your thighs together as you pressed yourself to the side of the cart. You could remember so clearly the way his tongue felt and that joyous flame which had overtaken our core. It made you sweat to think on it and his promises of more only added to your unwanted fervour. Your spite was splintered by your sinful want.

The secrecy made it feel worse. It assured you that it was wrong. Certainly, a bed warmer was not unheard of, mistresses far more common, but Loki’s insistence upon deception made you anxious. Perhaps, it added to his amusement. Or perhaps he was ashamed to lay with a commoner. It truly didn’t matter so you pondered little on his whims.

Camp was made just after dark. The moon beamed down on the party and you slept among the staff and the horses. You didn’t expect Loki to call for you nor were you disappointed. Yet you thought of him. You couldn’t shake him. 

Even as you thought of sneaking away, he lingered in your mind. He warned you that you would not go unobserved and you hadn’t. You noticed the guard and how he stayed close to the servants’ cart. His grey eyes as they found you amid the bunch. He was one of esteemed warriors assigned to the king’s personal guard and yet he wore the mail of the common palace sentinel. You both wore disguises and both knew each other to be interlopers.

The party rose with the sun. It wasn’t long before you were in the cart again. You dozed for some minutes but woke as you were jostled roughly. You watched the winding path and the trees peter out to tall grasses and fields of yellow, blue, and red petals. 

Your vision streaked as your head spun; something about this trip made you anxious, not that you had felt anything but in the last days. There was a foreboding deep in your stomach and it had you fidgeting as sweat beaded under the collar of your dress.

You had never been far from the capital, you never had the reason or the means. You were further then than you had ever been. The great stone pillars of Hammers Bough rose around you and opened up to the city that marked the threshold of Thunder Lodge. 

The oldest of the royal houses, Thunder Lodge was an implacable fortress said to be built on the will of the gods. It had once been the capital until a great storm swept in from the sea and flooded out the city. It had since been rebuilt but the royals and their court had since moved to the current capital of Starseed.

The gates of the royal abode were open as the king’s retinue approached and within, silks hung from the walls bearing the crest of the major houses of the realm. The sky was dimming as the sun began its decline and the August afternoon began to cool. The progression had made good time on the road but still with little time to prepare for the next day’s events.

At the rear of the train, you peered past the horses and the nobles and their carriages as a booming voice broke over the din. The blonde prince greeted his dark-haired brother before he could dismount and nearly pulled him from his saddle with his gruff handshake. Loki righted himself and slid down to his feet. The two men were similar in height, though Thor was twice as broad.

As the lords and their wives, daughters, and sons, began to deploy, you lost sight of the sons of Odin. You were forced from your haze by the servant next to you and you hopped down from the cart as the others began to unload the chests. You joined them, straining beneath the great weight as your skirts bunched between your legs with each bend.

You wiped your dusty hands on your apron as you caught your breath and readied to care a heavy chest up through the servants’ doors with another girl in brown wool. You paused as you caught the eye of the covert guard. He fingered the pommel of his sword as he squinted at you. The dented armor of his disguise did little to disassemble his stature.

You grabbed the leather handle of the chest and heaved it from the dirt. You followed the other girl along the line of servants to the doors. Inside, the resident staff directed the visitors and instructed them according to their master. The servants who had no specific liege, were to remain in the kitchens.

You let the other girl, Hanna, take the lead and left the chest in Lady Ulna’s chambers. You returned to the lower floors and exited through the same doors. Slowly, the toil was thinning as the nobles were welcomed through the front doors.

As you neared the cart, you were caught by your arm and thrust behind it. The armored guard shoved you against the wood as his hand returned to his sword.

“Stay,” he snarled. “Can’t have you getting lost.”

You stared up at him. A dark haired man with broad shoulders and a thick beard beneath his helm. He was similar to Thor in build, perhaps bigger.

“He thinks I will run?”

“He knows you to be a trespasser,” the man shrugged, “It is not beyond you to stray.”

“And you think I could outpace you?” You scoffed. “I haven’t tried upon this journey.”

“There has been little opportunity to do thus and I assure you, you wouldn’t make it two steps beyond my grasp, girl,” he glanced around and watched the other servants. “The king has assigned you as my personal duty. It is not what I’d prefer but I have always served well and you would not stain my reputation.”

You said nothing and crossed your arms as you leaned against the cart. He felt around at his belt and dug out a strip of dried meat from a leather pouch. He chewed and grumbled as the din of voices faded beyond the tall door of the palace and the servants went about their labor.

“Alright, best have you away,” he made to grab you again and you drew away.

“I can follow,” you assured him, “You don’t need to drag me.”

His nostrils flared and he shook his head. “I should like to,” he muttered but didn’t try again as he waved you back down to the servants doors.

Within, he asked a scullery where the king would be lodged and nodded at her directions. He continued on, prodding you back into step and strayed away from the path of other servants.

“She said the other way,” you intoned.

“I know my way,” he growled, “Now, quiet, girl.”

He led you up a winding staircase wordlessly, trailing behind you in his armour. When you reached the top, he ducked through the low archway and led you through the maze like corridors until he happened upon the more lively passages. A pair of doors was open as the guard approached the boy Hal who stood by the frame.

“Magnus,” Hal’s voice cracked as he saw the guard and his eyes peeked at you.

“The king does not want any suspicion. Keep her hidden in the bedchamber as the luggage is unloaded. I will be close.” He nudged you forward. “Hurry, before she is noticed.”

Hal nodded and waved you within. The boy was terrified of the much larger guard and you couldn’t blame him. You stepped through the doors as the servant scurried to open the bedchamber doors. Magnus lingered by the entrance as his armor clinked against the stone.

“Please, miss, the king would be unhappy if you are discovered.” Hal warned. “You must remain and keep quiet.”

You wondered at why such caution was being taken but merely nodded. The boy was only doing his duty and he was surrounded by cruel men. You walked the perimeter of the bedchamber and turned back to him.

“We both know the king to be mean-hearted,” you said, “I will do as you say.”

“I must close the doors,” he said as he retreated. 

You tilted your head and spun back. You went to the window as the doors shut with a click. You gazed out from behind the silk drapes and that same stone set in your heart. A foreign prison was no less a trap.

🐍

When the servants finished their work, Hal knocked and asked after you. He was a kind boy, not very talkative, and nearly completely silent in the presence of the king. You affirmed that you were as well as you could be and he left to return with a plate for your supper. You sat at the small round table in the bedchamber as he set down the covered dish.

“What duties await you now?” you asked.

He blanched and blinked. He lowered his head as his muddy brown hair fell over his forehead. “I will wait for the king.”

“Will you sit with me?”

He raised his head and gaped at you. “I don’t-- I don’t know that it is permitted.”

“You are not allowed to speak with me?”

“The king has never said it but I do not… speak with many.” He confessed.

“Oh,” you lifted the lid of the plate, “Well, there is very much food here and I have a small stomach. I will need someone to share with and I must admit, I am lonely for company.”

“I don’t know,” he rubbed his hands together nervously.

“I will take the blame for it, if the king is displeased.” You offered, “What good does it do you sitting in the next room alone?”

His brows drew together and he looked around. Cautiously, he pulled out the other chair and sat. You pushed the plate to the middle of the table and took a chunk of cheese. He shyly took a slice of the thick bread and bit into it. You could see he was nervous. You caught his eyes on you several times and a blush upon his cheeks.

“I’m not a whore,” you said sharply. “The king might put me in the position but… I am just a woman.”

“I didn’t--”

“Well, we both know why I am here but I can’t bear you looking at me so.” You reproached. “I used to make pots and the like. I worked in a shop. I suspect I am little different than you.”

“The king says you are a criminal,” Hal nibbled between words.

“Well, in a sense, yes,” you tapped the table with your fingertips, “I ventured onto castle grounds without permission but it is no great crime.” You bent your arm on the wood and cupped your chin. “Does the king say anything else of me?”

“Not to me,” Hal took a carrot from the plate, “He commands me, that is all.”

“As he does me.” You sat up, “We are both bound to his will.”

The boy glanced away guiltily. “I don’t think you a whore. I’m sorry.”

“It is fine,” you assured him, “I am not offended. I would not share my plate if I was.”

He chewed for a time and took another morsel from the plate. Finally, he dared to look at you again.

“I’ve heard him… hurt you.” Hal said quietly, “You shouldn’t goad him so.”

You chuckled and took a deep breath. “It is not hard to do so.”

“But if you were more amenable--”

“You are young. You can’t understand,” you wiped your hands on your apron, “But my resistance is all I have. And there is nothing the king can offer me but pain, so I’d rather meet it with gull than grace.”

Hal frowned. He thought but only looked more confused. He sniffed and shifted in his seat.

“I should go prepare for the king,” he stood, “He is of little patience when his brother is near.”

“Alright,” you sat back, “I will not mention this to him.”

“Thank you,” Hal neared the door and paused as he looked back. He smiled before he ducked into the receiving chamber and your lips curved slightly in kind. Then his words settled in your mind, ‘prepare for the king’. You would have to deal with Loki eventually.

🐍

The door slammed and had you rigid. You spent the hours since your arrival pacing the room and watching through the window. Hal appeared once more to clear your plate but didn’t say much as he returned to the task of unpacking the king’s luggage.

You heard Loki’s voice from the receiving chamber and you went to the bedroom door. You peered through as he swayed on his feet and Hal struggled to unclasp his cap from his shoulders. The king was barely aware of the boy as he drunkenly smiled at the walls.

Finally, Hal freed the length of green silk and hung it. The king staggered forward and caught himself against the settee. His eyes flicked up and caught yours. He smirked and stood straight. He raised a finger.

“Boy, you can go. I trust I can tend to myself tonight,” Loki declared, “And I have help should I require it.”

Hal bowed his head with a quiet ‘your majesty’. He peeked over at you as he went to the door. He reluctantly left you and the door closed gently in his stead. The king ambled forward and reached out for you as he stumbled. You could only catch him as he threatened to topple.

“Look at you, mouse,” he slurred, “Dressed as a maid. How silly!”

He leaned on you heavily and too afraid to drop him, you turned and angled him into the bedroom. His arms fell down your back and he squeezed your ass through the layers of wool and linen. You grimaced and managed to get him onto one of the chairs. He sat sideways and slumped against the back with an arm bent over the top.

He hiccupped and pushed his legs apart. He swung his leg as he looked at you and hummed.

“Do take off that ridiculous attire,” he slithered, “You will serve me but I expect more than a dusting.”

You stared at him and hesitated. You touched the apron across your front and he sat up and snapped his fingers.

“I am your king!” He proclaimed. “I have bid you undress for me, wench!”

He slapped his thigh and you flinched. You reached back and untied the apron. You turned and tossed it over the low bench against the wall. You undid the straps of your smock and shimmied out of the skirt. You left it atop the apron and removed the long white linen underdress. Your shift slipped easily down your figure as you spun back to him and raised your chin.

You slid your feet from your slippers and rolled down the stockings. You stood naked and glared at him as he admired you. Your crossed your arms as his gaze made you shiver and he grabbed onto the chair as he nearly fell over.

“Here,” he waved you forward with two fingers, “Get me out of this...” he pushed himself to his feet with effort, “Shit!”

His voice warbled between quiet and loud as the alcohol made him clumsy. You crossed to him and his hands clapped your shoulders as he held himself up. You looked up at him as he leaned dangerously and reached up to unbutton the high collar of his overcoat. His hands fluttered up your neck and cradled your face.

He bent and his nose touched yours. He smiled and swayed you with him. 

“You’re mad at me.” He sang. “I do love it when you sneer so.”

“I’m not mad,” you worked down the front of his jacket, “You need to stand straight so I can get this off.”

“I can hear it in your voice,” he stood and let his arms drop so you could push the brocade down them. “Or perhaps you are impatient. You wish a repeat of our last meeting.” He snickered, “Does your cunt ache for me?”

You tore his coat off entirely and strode away to hang it over a chair. When you returned to him, he bent for you to remove his tunic and his hands grazed you sides.

“I did expect a slap for that one,” he taunted, “I will only have to try harder…” He looked down, “Speaking of hard.”

His trousers tented as you unlaced them. He sat for you to slide his boots off with his socks and stood again as you pushed his leggings down. His erect member was hard to ignore as he was completely naked and unstable. You looked him in the face and narrowed your eyes.

“I am not angry at you because I despise you already,” you said, “It is hatred you feel from me.”

He chuckled and pulled you to him, his arms around your waist as he pressed himself to you.

“You hate what I make you feel because you are too proud to admit that you want me,” he purred, “And too afraid of what you’ve never known.”

“Oh, let go of me, you drunken fool,” you pushed on his arms. “You are like to have us both on the floor.”

He winked and slapped your ass again. He drew away but took your hand as he did. He neared the bed and sloppily snuffed the lamp with a blow. The chamber was dark as he flopped onto the mattress and dragged you down beside him. You snarled as he rolled you against him and stretched your arm across him. His other hand danced over the scars along your back.

“I am drunk,” he admitted and played with your hand, “I had to imbibe to bear my brother’s nonsense.” He guided your hand down and closed it around his cock. “And I do require a release as I find myself riled.”

You gripped him but did not move your hand as his fell away. You breathed darkly over his chest and his other arm hugged you tighter.

“Would you rather your mouth?” He taunted, he slipped his arm beneath yours and turned his body slightly, “Or you do long for reciprocity?”

He pushed his fingers between your legs and found your bud. You squeezed your thighs against him and he rubbed you roughly.

“Go on, don’t just hold it,” he hissed as toyed with you.

Slowly, you moved your hand up and down his length. Your legs twitched as your cunt slickened beneath his touch. He explored your folds as he held you to him and you stroked him almost without thought. Your hand kept time with him as he lured you to the edge and dangled you there. His breath smelled of wine as his grazed your skin and he pressed his nose against your hair.

“Come on,” he whispered, “Almost there.”

He shoved his hand between your legs and felt along your entrance. He pushed a finger inside and you gasped. Your rhythm faltered but he urged you on with a groan. You were too overwhelmed to stop. That unearthly delight began to gather in your loins, deeper as he slid another finger into and rocked his hand against your clit.

You rasped, then moaned, and felt his body begin to quake. The noise of your wet cunt underlined your heady pants and he had you on your back as he turned onto his side and kept you against him. Your legs splayed open around his hand and your eyes lolled back in your head.

You exclaimed as your walls clenched his fingers and you came. He climaxed in quick succession as warmth seeped down your palm and coated his member. He spasmed and pulled away from you as he grew overly sensitive but kept his fingers inside of you. He stilled his hand and sunk to his knuckles as he explored your depths.

“I can only imagine how you’ll feel around my cock,” he said. “But I should like to remember the first.” 

He slipped his hand away from your cunt and sighed as he rolled onto his back. He lifted his fingers to his lips and licked them. He purred and sucked them clean before trailing down to his pelvis. He tutted.

“I am a mess,” he said, “You’ve made a mess of me.”

You sat up, trembling and turned to climb off the bed. “I will fetch a cloth then--”

“You will not,” he grabbed your arm as you held your wet hand aloft. “You will clean me up yourself.”

“Wha--”

“Your mouth,” he pushed your hand towards your face. “Taste me.”

You stared at the silhouette of your hand in horror. You hoped he could not see your face. You gulped and brought your hand to your lips. You touched your finger with the tip of your tongue and reluctantly dragged it over your skin. He released you and pushed himself up on his elbows as he watched you in the dim.

One, two, three, four fingers and your thumb. You lowered your hand in shame and he nodded at his loins. You stifled a grumble and bent over him. His cum had cooled and was sticky as you closed your eyes to the revolting task. He groaned as you tried not to hear him and when you finished, he pet your head like an obedient dog.

“Ah,” he sighed and drew you up against him once more, “I feel it. You are mad now.” He yawned and tickled your hip, “Perhaps we might take it up on the morrow.”

“You are vile,” you sneered.

He snickered and pinched your ass. “I never denied such a claim, little mouse.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, oral, degradation, violence)
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: The king proves to be mercurial and you prove to be foolish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Masterlist update coming today @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor. Updates might be sporadic from here on out because despite the world being utter shit, Black Friday still exists.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

The air was fragrant as you sat on the low bench, wrapped in only a robe, and stared out the window. On the other side of the room, Loki dressed with the help of the young boy, Hal. The steam of his bath still dissipated in the air as he grumbled now and then, often drinking deeply from his glass and pouring another slosh of water from the pitcher.

It was as if you weren’t there. How easily the king forgot about all but himself. He dressed in dark blue that day, trimmed in an ivory cape and boots. He swatted Hal away and touched his temple as the sunlight made him squint. He sighed and brushed his fingers through the ends of his dark locks.

“Today will be the riding events. I did excuse myself from those lists.” He spoke, almost as if to himself. “Tomorrow I will be in better condition to win at the blade.”

You were quiet as you drew your legs up onto the bench. You slouched over your knees and rested your chin on your crossed arms.

“I will be gone much of the day but I expect you ready upon my return,” he neared and his shadow loomed over you, “You will undoubtedly be eager for it… From what I recall of last evening, you might even be begging for it.”

You glowered up at him as he smirked and winced then tapped his forehead.

“What am I to do? I have nothing but to walk the boards and stare out at the grass. I will be mad by the time you return.” You muttered as you turned your head away.

“All the better,” he slithered. He lifted his toe and swiveled his heel. He exhaled deeply. “Well, what should you like to do?”

“Besides the obvious?” You sneered.

“Perhaps, if you behave, I will see you to a stroll among the corridors when all are retired, but for now I cannot offer much more.” He sniffed, “So, what is it you peasants occupy your time with?”

You blinked and rubbed your cheek as you thought. You hadn’t much besides your work and your occasional adventures with Gilla. Neither would be viable now.

“I might try to sketch?” You looked up at last.

He considered you with a wrinkle in his brow and nodded. “I will grant you the favour upon the promise of one in kind,” he said, “...upon my return.”

You bit down. You expected as much but it still irked you. You turned to the window again.

“As you wish, your majesty.” You stared out at the green leaves that crested the branches of the palace yards. You felt him watch you a moment longer before he retreated.

“Hal, you will fetch her paper and some charcoal,” his soft soles approached the door, “Tend to her meals as you will and draw her a bath. She is starting to smell a bit… common.”

“Your majesty,” Hal chirped and followed the king through to the receiving chambers.

You listened as the doors opened and closed and you dropped your legs over the edge of the bench as you leaned against the wall. You grunted in frustration and hit the bench with your fist. It was exactly what Loki wanted; you at his mercy. Those small requests would grow to desperate pleas. His ploy was working but you could do little to keep him from controlling you entirely.

🐍

You weren’t very good at drawing but you managed a sloppy image of the scene through the window. The trees were slightly crooked and the gate uneven but it kept you busy for a time. You turned to a blank sheet but couldn’t focus enough to draw as you could hear the distant audience from the other side of the glass.

The common folk didn’t often attend these events. If they were present, they were selling wares to those lords and ladies who gathered for the pageantry. Still, trapped in the endless monotony, you longed to join the festivity. Anything but to sit within those walls and wait until your tormentor returned. Even if he could make you feel splendid, the king was little more than your warden.

As the sun reached its peak, Hal appeared to draw your bath with several attendants. You washed alone and dressed in one of the gowns provided by the king. You hate how the satin clung to your torso even with its boning and how the skirts tickled your legs as they swished.

You ate a little. Your tedium turned to impatience turned to agitation. The day faded from yellow to a calm blue and slowly dimmed beyond the stone walls. The din quieted as the sun descended. The king’s presence loomed in your mind.

You attempted a sketch of a lion statuette and relinquished the charcoal in frustration. Hal appeared with two covered plates on a tray and set them on the table. He placed a bottle of wine and some goblets alongside them and left you without a word. The boy seemed nervous since your prior conversation.

The king entered without fanfare. You looked up at him as you were distracted from the trance that had you staring into the unlit hearth. He glanced over at you and frowned. He tutted and removed his cape.

“I am aware your etiquette is unrefined but you will rise and pay your obeisance to me upon my arrival,” he uttered, “Do not think I grow negligent in my expectation of you, little mouse.”

You stood stiffly and bowed. He sat at the table and huffed.

“Well, get over here,” he pointed to the other chair, “Pour some wine.”

You crossed to the table and filled a goblet for him. Your own, you only filled to the half point. You sat and uncovered your plate as he did the same. He poked at the food. He was annoyed already.

“Are you not hungry?” He asked as he twirled his fork. “I am informed your plates are left barely touched as late.”

“I am,” you scooped up a potato, “I will eat.”

He tilted his head and considered you. He dropped his fork and leaned back in his seat. “Do not force yourself on my account,” he said, “If you do not appreciate the fare, then you may forego your supper.”

“Your majesty, I will--”

“No, no, as I recall, you owe me,” he glanced at the paper on the edge of the table and the sticks of charcoal, “And as I do anticipate an early morning on account of the competition, I would rather we sort this out sooner.”

He dropped a hand down and picked at the laces of his trousers, “Come, under the table,” he bid, “If you will not eat then you may use your mouth for other means.”

You glared at him, mortified. You brought your fork to your lips and he was quick to rise and bat it away. The top of his pants drooped as you dropped the silver and you blanched at him. He dropped back into his chair.

“I do not issue requests, I give orders. Now on your knees or I will have you even quicker on your back.”

“Then do it already,” you snarled, “I tire of your boasting.”

He stood once more, this time so abrubtly that his chair toppled behind him. He was upon you in a moment, his hands around your head as he forced you to your feet. His eyes flared down at you as you grabbed onto his arms and wrestled with him. You stumbled as he dragged you around the chamber he angled you toward the settee.

He shoved you down and slipped a hand down to your throat as he straddled you beneath him. He slid his hand down the front of his open trousers and pulled out his hard member. He lifted his knees and moved up to pin down your shoulders. He squeezed your throat tightly as he bent over you and guided his cock to your lips.

“You bite me and I will have your teeth on the floor,” he threatened, “Now open for your king.”

You clenched your lips but as your breath dwindled, you gasped and he quickly slipped inside your mouth. He sank down your throat as he brought his hand up above your head and thrust his hips roughly. You choked and kicked out. You slapped his thighs as you struggled to breathe.

He groaned as his hips slammed down harder and harder. You gagged and your eyes lolled back as your vision swam with tears.

“You do push me when I am already… inflamed,” he grunted, “When my temper has already been stoked by incompetents.”

He fucked your face without relent as you were trapped beneath him. His fingers stretched over your head and he sped up once more. He panted as he chased his end and when it rose, he flooded your throat without warning. He continued to rock into you until you swallowed around him. He shivered at the sensation and sat back as he slowly drew himself from your mouth.

His cock glistened as he rested his weight on your chest and steadied himself. He swallowed and hung his head back. Without looking, he poked two fingers into your mouth. Without thinking, you gnashed his digits between your teeth. You were met quickly with a strike across your cheek.

He wiggled his fingers, further pained by the slap, and growled.

“Must you insist on difficulty,” he pushed himself off of you and tucked away his cock. He grabbed your arm and wrenched you onto the floor. “There you are.” He jabbed you with his toe. “You can spend your night there.”

He shoved you back with his boot and spun away from you. He went to the table and took the heel of bread from his plate and the entire bottle of wine. “No supper for you. If I see that you’ve so much as stolen a crumb, I will whip you myself.”

He stomped to the bedroom doors and looked back at you one last time. “And leave the boy alone. He is not your friend.”

🐍

You stayed on the floor but didn’t sleep much. Little hazes but nothing more. Loki stirred in the next room and you turned to face the wall. You didn’t move as a knock sounded shortly after. The young boy seemed to always sense when he was required. He entered and hesitated as he passed you before the settee. He carried on and you let out the air in your lungs.

You heard the king’s voice and the activity that followed his awakening. When he emerged, you remained as you were. He ordered Hal around as he sat to tie his boots. He scoffed as he rose and swept towards the door.

“I know you are awake, mouse,” he said, “Let’s not make deception a habit.”

You refused to respond and he huffed. The door opened and he paused in the doorway. “See to her meals, boy.” His voice shifted direction, “Sir, you will watch the door.”

A grumble came in response to the orders as the door snapped shut. You rolled onto your back and sat up. The morning light made your head pulse and your eyelids drooped heavily. You pulled yourself up onto the settee and buried your face in the cushion. You hadn’t the energy to stay mad, you only needed sleep. It wasn’t long before it came.

When you woke, you were groggy. A plate awaited you on the table and the same buzz floated from outside the walls. Another day of sport and you were, as ever, pent up inside on the king’s whim. You slunk over to the table and ate without tasting. Your stomach ached until it was satisfied.

You stood and paced. You stopped at the window as you tried to get a glimpse of the tents erected around the tourney grounds but the silk offered little sign of what was unfolding. You hated that you had to wait, it was all you did. The king had chosen your punishment well. This purgatory was worse than any dungeon.

You marched back and forth. Your anger began to bubble over. Well, if he should have you do nothing, you will find something to keep yourself occupied. Perhaps you might tear down the drapes or dismantle the framed pictures of his smug ancestors. What worse could he do that he did not intend already?

You kicked the door as you passed it and your toe throbbed. Your slippers offered little padding and you swore. Further enraged by your pain, you punched the door. You stopped and listened through the wood. You could hear the drafty emptiness of the halls. Cautiously, you rested your hand on the handle and pressed until the lever lifted. 

You pulled the door an inch inward and waited for it to be forced back into place. But you met no resistance and poked your head into the corridor. There was no guard, no passing resident, no spy you could see. You retreated and steadied your nerves. _Was it a trick? A trap?_ Either way, it was too much to deny.

You went to the wardrobe and took down the grey cloak hung within. You tied it at your throat and peered back into the halls. Still, no keeper to stop you from your escape. Well, it would only be a brief sojourn. You only wanted to see the games. To know what made the crowd so raucous.

You hesitated. If the king discovered your flight, you would be in dire trouble. Yet, he was competing himself and wouldn’t even know. So long as you were back before your guard. Where was that lug anyhow?

You put your foot down lightly. You slowly leaned your weight on it and stepped out into the hall, testing its vacancy. Still, you were alone. You pulled up your hood and closed the door behind you. You weren’t certain which way to go in the immense palace.

You lost yourself several times over before you found the stairs. You scurried down the steps and hid your face as well as you could as you passed by servants in their aprons and caps. You felt as if they all knew, as if any would accost you and report your offense back to the king.

But they didn’t and you kept on until you stumbled in disbelief onto the green. You followed the scent of roasting beef and the wall of voices to the cluster of tents along the sporting field. There were benches set on platforms to house the observers; the ladies waving their handkerchiefs and the older lords cheering on their favourites.

You stood before the steps of the stands and glanced around. Surely you were being followed. You couldn’t have just walked out onto the green so easily. It felt too simple. It felt a snare but yet you kept going.

You climbed up and pushed down your hood as no other wore theirs. You needed to blend in with the crowd. You walked behind a row of ladies as they stood and called out to the field. You stopped behind them and stood on tiptoes to see past them. Two contestants in armor charged at each other with blunted blades. The tourneys had long since traded real steel for training weapons. The forgers often complained of the flimsy designs.

You edged past the line of ladies and upon a closer look, you recognised the fighters. The prince, Thor, fought in red armor with a lion on its helm, and his brother, the king, faced him with serpents across his breast plate. As you heard it, the custom was to allow the monarch a victory.

Still, the audience held its breath as the swords crashed together once more. The much larger royal barely missed his brother with a fearsome strike. Loki was quick and kicked out Thor’s leg. The elder slipped but recovered easily as he batted away the next swing. The two danced around each other; Loki, graceful and light, Thor, lumbering but effective.

As Thor struck down with both hands, Loki deflected him but found the dull blade snapped by the force. He stumbled back and dodged his brother’s next attack. The king was fast but defenseless. He ducked and dove all around but at last found himself cornered by his burly brother. You saw the desperation and the realisation in his posture.

He made an attempt to disarm his brother only to be thrown back. He landed with a thud on his back and the crowd went silent. Thor sheathed his sword and offered his hand to his brother. There was a moment before the gesture was accepted and the king was hauled onto his feet. The men clapped each others’ shoulders politely but all knew there was little comradery between them. Only the prince would dare best the king. And he had dared.

The king waved to the crowd and the competitors were led from the field. The king reached to remove his helm as he walked towards the stall and looked out into the crowd. His jaw was tense and even at a distance you could see his spite. And, you swore, he could see you.

You carefully took a step back and hid behind the figure next to you. You let out a shuddery breath. He could know, now from so far away. You were just another body in the crowd. Well, you had come and seen the fuss. You would have to go before your absence was discovered and the alarm sent up.

You retraced your steps and staggered onto the grass. After such a loss, the king would be even angrier. He did not lie when he said his brother provoked him like no other. A dark foreboding stabbed you.

You already regretted your mistake. A moment of impulsivity had taken you too far. But he hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t have. You were just paranoid. 

You ducked your head down and raced up the palace steps and followed a servant until you found the stairs. You were lost again as you reached the top. The corridors seemed to only lead into each other in circles but at last, you caught your bearings.

You turned the corner that led to the king’s chambers but were suddenly jerked back as a painful grip closed around your arm. Magnus sneered down at you as his hand threatened to crush your bones. He slammed you against the wall and you gasped.

“The king will not be happy with you, wench,” he snarled, “Oh, I think he might just toss you back where you belong.”

“Let go of me,” you rasped, “Ow!”

He shook you with a sharp hiss.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You know what he will do when I reveal to him what you’ve done?” He taunted. 

You gulped down air and croaked out as squirmed helplessly. “And what… about you? What will he think of the guard who let me free?” You trembled as his grey eyes bore into you, “When he learns that your absence allowed for my escape?”

His nostrils flared and he squeezed your arms. His jaw ticked as he stared you down then all at once, his hands dropped. He shoved you away from the wall.

“You keep quiet and go back,” he stomped behind you, “And I won’t snap your neck and tell him you asked for it.”

You went to the door and he was close behind. He reached past you and opened the door so that it hit the wall. He grabbed the back of your neck and dragged you inside. He kicked the back of your legs so that they collapsed and he forced you down to the ground as bent over you.

“I know why the king keeps you, whore,” he spat, “He will tire of you soon and I will delight in throwing you back to the dungeons.” He pushed until your face met the floor. “When he is done, he might just let me finish breaking you.”

He pushed away from you and flipped you with his foot. He clutched his pommel and sneered down at you as he circled you. His chest puffed out and he stopped sharply on his heel.

“A little rat like you will be back to the gutter soon enough,” he backed away as he seemed tempted to draw his blade. “I’ll make sure of it the next time you stray.”

He slammed the door behind him and it shook in his stead. You laid on the floor, paralysed with adrenaline. You blinked up at the ceiling and breathed at last. You were truly out of your depth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, noncon, binding, nothing too extreme beyond my usual)
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You dread Loki’s return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Managed to get this out as I prepare for retail hell on Friday but y’all are wonderful! Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback<3

The chamber was eerie and silent as you awaited the king’s return. You didn’t long for it, only knew it was inevitable. 

You regretted your venture outside; reproached yourself for your curiosity and your lapse into impulse. You’d been pent up for days, weeks, truly. Even the road to Thunder Lodge had allowed you little adventure. You were continuously crushed under the thumb of the willful king.

You recalled the night before, how quickly Loki had grown irritated and how he’d smothered you in his wrath. Your throat tightened at the memory. You couldn’t imagine he’d been any less agitated after that day. _Why did his brother always have to goad him so?_

You stared up at the portrait of Odin, the former king. Thor bore more of a resemblance to his father but even in oil, there was a darkness that hung around the predecessor. Loki had inherited it. It followed him around like a cloud. Perhaps it had been fostered in him through the blatant preference for the elder prince. For all the indifference and resent held over him. Loki had just as much to dole out in kind. His reign would be his ultimate vengeance.

Or perhaps, he was just a spoiled little boy who grew to be a selfish asshole. Both, even.

You were drawn from your reverie by the low hum of voices in the corridor and the metallic chink of armor. Magnus’ deep tones seeped through the stone walls and under the broad door. You took a breath and stopped as you turned to face the carved wood. 

The king entered, still in his armor, his dark hair curled from sweat and dust. His green eyes were sharp above his long nose as he carried his helm beneath his arm. You flinched as he slammed the metal onto the table and the door snapped shut behind him. He rested his gauntleted hand on the wood and tapped his fingers, his back to you as he huffed.

He pushed his head back and slipped his mailed gloves from his hands. He unclothed himself of his armor a piece at a time and laid them each atop the table. He didn’t look at you or acknowledge your hovering presence as you watched him. You knew he hadn’t forgot you though. He never did.

He stretched his arms and curled his fingers with an exaggerated sigh. His hands went to his hips as he turned slowly. His tunic hung open down his chest, loose as his belt coiled on the tablet with the heap. His eyes traced the mortar between the stones of the floor then crawled deliberately up your body. You were tempted to shield yourself behind the sofa.

His mouth curved at one corner and his eyes shone with malice. He sniffed and puffed his chest as he considered you.

“Did you think you were unseen?” He asked.

Your brow wrinkled as your lips parted slightly. You shook your head, speechless. You glanced at the door and he snapped his fingers.

“Do not fret about my guard. I will deal with his negligence in turn.” He snarled. “I saw you…and I know you saw me, mouse.” He came closer and you resisted the urge to cower, “So, if I did spot you from my deficit, how many others do you suppose spied you among the rows?”

“I don’t-- They--”

“I do not ask you to speak!” He raised his voice as his eyes gleamed dangerously. “Still that tongue before I should wish to strangle the breath from you entirely and never hear your lies again.”

You reeled as the fear pumped in your heart. Your skin tingled with adrenaline as you watched the king boil over. Like a snake, he readied for a final strike and you could not guess where it would land.

“Unclothe yourself. You show yourself ungrateful to all the privilege I’ve allowed you.” He hissed. “Do it or I shall tear it from your body myself.”

You blanched and your lips twitched. There was nothing you could say but he took it as resistance. He was on you in a moment. Around the sofa, both hands at your throat as he wrenched you nearly off your feet.

“Do not think I cannot find another. There are many whores prettier and more tolerable,” his longer fingers tightened on your neck. “I will not wait on your insolence.”

He released you so that you staggered. You caught yourself on the arm of the sofa and bent your arm back to tug at the laces of your gown. He reached over them and snapped them, jolting your body as he did. The fabric slackened and he paced impatiently across the room.

You shimmied free of the gown and bent to slip your feet from the silk slippers. He offered little more than a sheath and you stood naked and scared. He went to the door and opened it an inch. He whispered an order to his guard and was met with acquiescence. He pushed the door shut and turned on you again.

“Get on your knees and stay thus until I say,” he bid and continued his restless steps around the room. 

He stopped by the table and drew the dagger from his disposed belt. He turned the blade and admired it in the light. A tap came at the door and he called for the guard to enter. You lowered your head before Magnus saw you though you did not miss the length of rope in his hands.

“Bind her,” Loki rasped, “Neck to hands. Like the animal she is.”

You winced as the heavy boots approached you. Magnus was gruff as he pushed your head up and he smiled tauntingly at you as he wounded the thick rope around your neck, from chin to collarbone. Your head was held up by the tight rope and he moved around you to trail the rope along your back. He bent your arms behind you and secured them tightly and painfully behind you. 

You struggled to keep your balance as he stepped away. The king nodded. “Take her to the bed chamber,” Loki sneered, “On the bed.”

He did not move as Magnus lifted you to your feet. He turned you and marched you across the room and into the next. He shoved you meanly so that you hit the bed and landed on your front. He snickered and bent over you. “I did warn you.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” you retorted.

“With pleasure,” he stood and marched from the room.

You heard the doors again and you were left to lay helplessly on the mattress. You listened to the still air as you waited, for what, you were too afraid to ask. The king took his time; you heard the clink of glass and his suppressed anger in his sighs. His shadow loomed over you as he appeared in the doorway. He neared like a spectre as you strained to look at him without leaning too heavily on your arm. You were stuck on your stomach as you wriggled helplessly.

“Be still,” he pressed the metal tip of the dagger to your thigh and his other hand spread across your ass. 

“Your majesty, please--”

“Another word and I’ll cut your tongue out. I tire of it.” He pushed the blade flat and dragged it along the curve of your flesh. “You peasants, you have your wives’ tales but we have more. We have history written in ink. We have the truth.” He said evenly as he teased your skin with the silver, “I once read, that in the early years of our kingdom, when drought and famine was common, even among the rich, that the kings kept more than one woman.”

He poked you but did not break the skin. “He had his wife; a queen, to stand by him, but if she could not provide him and heir, he had his consorts. There was one king, my own father’s namesake, who had a dozen such women and twice as many children…

“More intriguing, it was said the king would mark his women so that other men would know not to touch. So that the women would know that blood should be drawn if they stray.” He turned you over suddenly and you rested agonizingly on your bent arms, your chest thrust up. He climbed between your legs and held up the knife. He placed it above your left breast. “Perhaps you need another lesson in blood.”

He pierced your skin and you muffled a yelp. You jerked and his other hand spread over the rope at your neck. He held you down and tutted.

“Do not move or I might mangle you,” he pressed more firmly as he began to carve your flesh. You bared your teeth and whined. Your entire body tense as he sliced. Tears pricked as the hot blood rose.

He drew away at last and smiled at his work. You could not see as your head was kept up by the layers of rope. He backed off the bed and set the dagger aside. He kept his back to you as he lifted his tunic over your head, you could only see the blur of his silhouette as you remained prone on the bed. The rustle of clothing filled your ears as your body thrummed.

You tried to roll over and he caught you. He pushed you onto your arms again and you squeaked. He lifted your hips as your arms were strained further and bent his legs around you as he pulled yours atop them. He propped up your pelvis as you were splayed against him and he roughly pushed his thumb along your folds. He poked painfully inside and growled.

“I’ve been patient but I see that my grace does not but inspire your petulance.” His other hand stroked his member as it bobbed before him, “So let us be done with it.”

You squirmed as he angled his cock down and kept his other hand on your cunt. He curled his thumb inside you as he guided his head to your entranced. He pushed against his knuckle as you wriggled helplessly, only adding to the painful pressure as he continued to prod at you.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he slid his thumb out and pushed harder. You strained around him as he sought entrance. “You tight little bitch.”

Your struggle only added to your discomfort. His hand stretched over your lower stomach as he held you in place and he forced his tip inside you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream at the pain as it shot up your spine.

“Stop!” You gasped. “Stop! Ow…”

Your voice fizzled as he gripped your hip and urged himself deeper. Another inch felt like much more and you bit down to keep from shrieking. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe through the pain. He grabbed your chin and bent over you as he slid further in.

“Look at me,” he growled as he squeezed your jaw, “Look at your king.” He bit his lip and snapped his hips down and impaled you completely. You cried out as waves of pain radiated through you. “You’re mine. My pet.”

He slid his hand around your neck and pulled you up suddenly. He sat back on his heels with you in his lap. He sank even further into you and you hung weak in his grasp. Every inch of you screamed as your vision swam.

He kept a hand behind your neck as the other rocked your hips. He moved you slowly but steadily. As you slickened, your motion grew easier but not less agonizing. Your walls throbbed around him as you panted against the coil at your neck.

You saw a smear of red against his chest, it spread as he moved you. You realised it was your blood, still trickling from his assault. 

“Look at me, mouse,” he snarled as he squeezed your neck. “Look at me.”

His green eyes bore into yours as he bounced you atop. He lifted you and slammed you back down so sharply that you moaned. Your legs bent around him as you tried to ease the pressure as that warmth gathered in your loins at the friction of him against your bud. Your thighs clenched as you felt the magical rise and you nearly forgot all but that immeasurable pleasure in your core.

He stopped you suddenly. He breathed deeply and jostled you a top him. He shifted so that he sat with his legs straight and he dropped onto his back. Both his hands grasped your hips and he rocked you again. You straddled him precariously as he guided your body over his.

The muscles of his arms bulged as he gazed up at you in a lusty haze, driven by it as he moved your hips faster and faster, pulling you down harder each time. There was a dark bruise along his shoulder but you quickly forgot it. You tried to swallow the sudden ecstasy that washed over you, as your nerves flurried and bounced in a storm of delight.

Your eyes rolled back and he dug his nails into your flesh. “Look at me…” he rasped and you obeyed without thought. 

His cheek twitched and his body went rigid then began to quiver beneath you. He held your hips in place and thrust into you from below. He grunted and groaned and a flow of heat spilled into you. He spasmed and slowed until he was still. He let out a long breath and his hands slipped to your thighs.

You sat stunned, as every muscle in your body suddenly ached. He tickled you as he lifted his hands and groped your chest. He played with your tits lazily and watched his hands. He circled your nipples with his thumbs and hummed. You felt a twitch inside of you. He carefully moved his hips.

“You will know your sentence tonight, little mouse,” he purred, “And you will serve it for so long as I wish.”

_🐍_

You slept, uncomfortably. Little spurts of unconsciousness where the stiffness never truly left your neck and the tenderness lingered in your cunt. Loki snored beside you, content. Your elbows ached, still bent and often trapped beneath your weight.

You woke for the last time as the sun began to rise. Shortly after, a tap came at the bedchamber door. Loki did not stir at first and did so with a groggy call for the disturber to enter. You bent your legs up to try to hid yourself as Hal appeared in the soft morning light.

“Your majesty, your breakfast,” the boy said as Loki sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was knotted and wild.

“In a moment,” Loki grumbled, “Take this,” he reached over to the dagger, “Did you also put away my armor?”

“I did, your majesty,” Hal took the knife and you closed your eyes in shame. Loki had the cover of the blankets but you had nothing.

“Very well, return in an hour for my bath,” he bid. The boy left without more than his assent.

Loki snickered and you felt his hand on your arm. He laid back and turned onto his side. He draped his arm around you and tugged at the knot by your wrists. He loosened the rope and pulled it away until you were free. The skin beneath was raw and warm.

He drew back and touched the mark he’d left on your chest. You winced and looked down as you fell onto your back and straightened your arms. His symbol, two snakes intertwined, skillfully cut into your flesh. You closed your eyes in shame.

“You will never forget me, mouse,” he murmured, “And none will ever forget that you are mine.”

You said nothing. You felt like crying; like screaming. He moved closer and you felt his hard member against your leg. He slipped from beneath the covers and lifted himself over you. He forced a knee between your legs. 

You opened your eyes as he held himself over you and pushed against your entrance. You gulped as he slid inside. It still hurt very much.

You braced his shoulders as he impaled you. You breathed between your teeth and peaked down at your bodies. He was covered in black and blue splotches; bruised from his battle with his brother, from which armor couldn’t even protect him.

“Do you like how I look inside you?” He teased, “How I feel?”

You turned your head away and stared at the wall. He chuckled and nuzzled your temple.

“I don’t know how I should ever keep myself from you now,” his hot breath seared your skin and you shivered as another heat began to blossom.

_🐍_

The wardrobe was locked and you were allowed no clothing when Loki left you. Nor were you allowed to stray from the bedchamber. The receiving chamber was also closed and you were to linger in your cell. The last of the tournament would be marked with a feast and the claiming of prizes by the champions.

You kept a sheet around you. You felt grimy and used. The king had bathed after he ate but had forbidden you the same. You were to remain filthy; his touch lingered on you; inside of you.

You sat by the window but did not look out. You listened to the titter of birds and the distant crowd. You weren’t so curious as before. The nobles could keep their games.

You dozed in the slat of sunlight that leaked in between the curtains and didn’t wake for some hours. Despite your despair and the way your nerves never quite stopped, you were too exhausted to resist. Your body was stiff as you woke in the chair, sore from the abuse of the king.

You rose and paced for a time. You found the book Loki had left on the side table and flipped through the pages. You didn’t know the letters or what they said but you admired the colourful illuminations. You felt an urge to cry but did not. Could not. That would be his final victory and you would keep it from him or as long as you could.

The day wore on and evening shrouded the sky without. You wondered if Loki would return with the same fervour or be too fatigued from a day of gaiety. You distracted yourself by twists and knotting the rope which had formerly bound you. A single lantern burned as you grew restless.

Then you heard the door. More jarringly, you heard a voice that was not the king’s. The deep tone was cheery and was met with Loki’s cool timbre. You moved to the door and listened as you hugged the sheet around you.

“Brother, it is late, I have an early morning,” Loki bemoaned, “I haven’t time for another drink.”

“But you do require it. Your mood remains.” The visitor, Thor you could guess, returned. “Are you so quick to be away? You might stay for another day. My wife is most happy to host your court.”

“The very court you left behind,” Loki countered.

“I do miss you, brother,” a chair leg whined against the floor and Loki sighed. “One glass. For me. For father.”

“In spite of father,” Loki replied. Glass met the table and you heard a cork pop. “One glass.”

The brothers went on as such. Little japes and jabs. You still wondered why the elder had stepped aside but he did sound happier away from the royal parade. You listened passively, knowing that when Thor was gone, Loki would have no reason to delay.

“I know you are still sour from our contest,” Thor intoned, “But know I did not mean to slight you.”

“A game. I know,” Loki assured him though he was less than convincing.

“You always did enjoy games.” Thor said, “You are adept at toying with others. It is why you will be a better king.”

There was a silence. A glass was set down.

“I know you did not come to praise me so, brother, so why is it you’ve chosen to hound my chambers this night?”

“Always so distrusting. I never looked at you as an adversary as you have me.” Thor replied. “Can’t we set this all behind us. You have the crown--”

“So why do you pace my chambers as if you have lost a precious ring?” Loki challenged.

“I have sat much today. I wish to stretch my legs.”

“You are a poor liar.” Loki sneered. “If you will not be forthright, you will leave me in peace.”

“Well, you know how it can be. How word travels quickly. How the slightest inconsistency does stir the servants to chatter and the ladies to repeat it.”

“As you said, brother, you aren’t so skilled at toying with others so what is it?”

“You are keeping a secret. From me. From your court.” Thor said staunchly, “You dress her in servant’s garb and keep her in your chamber but I do believe that boy with the dusty hair is your attendant.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

The door opened suddenly and you looked up as a large figure stood over you. You blinked and clutched the sheet as you got to your knees and backed away. Loki appeared beside his brother and wrenched him back.

“What does it matter if I seek relief?” Loki huffed, “You have your wife and it is no secret that her condition does see your eye astray.”

“Where did you get this creature?” Thor tried to pull away from his brother but Loki clung to him. 

“Never you mind. You’ve a staff of your own, an entire city of willing harlots beyond your gates.”

“I am only curious,” Thor shook off Loki and advanced on you again. You struggled to your feet and he raised his palms. “I will not hurt you, lady.”

You looked to Loki and he shook his head. As your eyes returned to Thor, his were on your chest, just above the sheet. You covered the incisions there. He smiled and spun back to his brother.

“Should you not marry before--”

“I have time to marry and I will find a princess to fill the crown,” Loki insisted, “You needn’t worry, brother. It is my throne now and I will tend to it.”

“And how should a princess feel when she is met with another in her spot? Even calling her a queen could not absolve her affront.”

“Why are you so concerned?” Loki spat.

“Merely… curious,” Thor neared his brother, “And surprised… perhaps she might ease that lance ever lodged up your--”

“Good night, brother,” Loki barked and strode to the door, “You’ve had your drink.”

“I understand your impatience,” Thor stopped by the door and looked back at you, “I understand it too well.”

“Just go.” Loki opened the door. “As I’ve said, I’ve an early morning.”

“Late night, as well,” Thor chuckled. “Good night, your majesty.”

With that, the elder Odinson left and the door was closed with venom. Loki spun and leaned against it with a growl. You watched through the door frame and his eyes met yours.

“I’m sorry--”

“Quiet,” Loki pushed himself away from the painted wood, “Come.”

He beckoned you forth and you reluctantly crossed the room. He met you halfway and tore the sheet away from your body. He pulled you close and ran his hands up and down your figure. He turned you and bent you over the table so that your hips met it with a pang.

He hastily untied his trousers and freed himself. He sheathed his cock in you without hesitation and you went rigid as you braced the table.

“You know what you’ve done?” He rutted into you as his words were harried by his breath. “My brother… he never let me have a toy of my own.” He crashed into you without relent. “Even the throne he did not hand over until he tired of it. Until he realised--” Loki groaned and sped up. “We must leave as soon as we can.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, noncon, trauma)
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You are overwhelmed by your imprisonment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t expecting to get this done today but I did!
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

You left as you came; in the servants’ cart wearing clothes that weren’t yours. You had a cap over your hair and apron across your front as you huddled down beside the chests with the rest of the royal staff. Your guardian was ever present as he marched in borrowed armor which served as a poor disguise.

You rocked with the roll of the wheels and as the night came, Magnus tore you away from the others and secreted you to the king’s tent. He was silent, perturbed, but as demanding as ever. You woke early to resume your place among the servants and carry on the final leg of the journey back to the capital. To you, it was no homecoming, rather the closing of the prison gates behind you.

It was night when you neared the palace, the walls rose up around you, a looming sentinel of your fate. The cart jolted to a halt behind the train and you waited for the others to hop off before you slunked out the end. As your feet met the ground, you were seized and dragged away from the storm of bodies suddenly looking for tasks.

Magnus’ heavy boots stomped through the dirt and his armor jostled loudly as he led you from the procession. He directed you towards the south end of the palace as he kept his chin down, his hand squeezing painfully on your arm.

“No chances this time,” he growled, “King’s given permission that I break your leg myself if you run again.”

“How kind a master he is.” You sneered.

“I could do it now and say you did try, bitch,” he wrenched open a door and forced you through ahead of him. “What I could do to you…” He shoved you so that you stumbled against the opposite wall and the door slammed behind him. Only the flicker of the torch hung feet away lit the space. “I wonder what intrigues the king so.” He caught you as you turned around, his hand on your skirts. “I wouldn’t mind a taste of the royal delight.”

“Get off of me,” you pushed against his mailed chest. “The king would do more than slap your snout, you dog.”

“Or perhaps he would tire of a used toy,” Magnus cupped your ass through your skirts, “If there was anything left to play with.”

You grabbed at his belt and your hand settled on the pommel of his sword. His gauntlet closed over your hand and his other shot up to your neck. 

“I’d like you to try,” he dared you, “I doubt you could even lift the blade.”

He pushed your hand away and parted from you gruffly. He cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders back. He nodded down the corridor and waited. Slowly, you stepped away from the wall and began down the stone floor.

“I’ll take enough pleasure in hearing your pathetic mewls as he takes you again,” he chortled, “And imagine how you should weep if it were me.”

You were silent. You were afraid, truly, and revolted. You didn’t dare to look at the beastly guard and instead watched his shadow ahead of you as you neared the winding staircase. You ascended ahead of him and his hand strayed to your skirts but just as swiftly retracted. When you reached the top he ushered you on to the king’s chambers.

“He wants you ready for him. He must greet his people.” Magnus declared. “Perhaps I might help loosen you up.”

“You’re repulsive,” you shuddered as his hand settled on the door handle. “You truly think he would not castrate you for the act.”

“You are no wife, no queen,” he opened the door and let it open, “Only a whore.” He grabbed your shoulder and forced you inside, quickly following and slamming the door. He crossed his arms over his mailed chest. “I must take your garb so you do not stray again.”

“You’ve been ordered to or you--”

“I’ll rip it off myself,” he stepped forward and you shied away. “What I should do after the trouble you’ve caused.”

You edge away from him and gulped. You averted your eyes as you removed your cap and untied your apron. You threw them at his feet and kicked away your slippers, your stocks slid down your legs and added to the heap. 

As you strained to unlace the dress, he huffed and pulled you to him. He spun you and tore the laces loose and forced the fabric down your arms. He continued to undress you gruffly, your shift shredded by his touch and his hand lingered before he finally collected the rest. You covered yourself and stumbled away from him.

You turned as he snickered and hugged the bundle of clothing. His grey eyes glimmered with malice.

“How brave you are until you are naked,” he taunted, “If you... require me, I will be without, wench. Waiting, watching.”

Your nostrils flared as you quickly retreated to the sofa and shielded yourself with a pillow. “You will remain without, sir.” You hissed. “Keep watch, doggy.”

His grin fell and he scowled before he turned away. He left you but the fear didn’t. You quaked as you sat and waited. For the guard to lose his restraint or the king to retire for the night. Neither was welcome.

🐍

When the door opened, you were still unprepared for the king, but it wasn’t him. Two servants streamed in without acknowledging you and went through to the bath chamber with pails of steaming water. You watched them silently as they filled the tub over several trips, the slosh of water and their footfalls the only noise. When they finished, they were gone just as soon. 

Moments later, Loki appeared. Hal accompanied him and kept his eyes to the floor as your nudity shamed him. You sat, stony and dazed, as the king was undressed by his attendant. He said nothing as he drank from the bottle of wine directly and ordered the boy away. The door closed and ended your trance.

You looked over as Loki wore only his undershorts and grabbed the bottle by the neck. His skin still bore the marks of competition and his face the lines of his agitation. He didn’t look at you as he neared the bedchamber.

“Mouse,” he beckoned you with a finger.

He strode through the door and you stood cautiously. You listened to his lithe steps and took your own wary ones across the room. As you entered the bed chamber, you heard the clunk of glass on stone, and followed it to the bath chamber. The bottle of wine sat on the flat brim of the tub as Loki rolled his shorts down and stepped into the steaming pool of water. He lowered himself with a sigh and stretched his arms around the lip.

“Come. You smell of the road.” He bid as he closed his eyes.

You took a breath and neared the other end of the tub. You lifted your leg over the side and dipped into the water carefully. The basin was large enough for at least four body’s, a round crater carved in marble. He took another swig and the bottle made another thick thump off the stone.

“Closer,” he demanded as he stirred his fingers in the water.

You stared at him, hesitant. His silence was disconcerting. The man loved his own voice and his monologues were much preferable to nothing. He was mad still; he would be for some time. You knew, by his relationship with his brother, that he would hold a grudge.

You pushed yourself away from the side of the tub and waded through the water on your knees. His eyes opened and focused on you. As you neared him, you were suddenly plunged beneath as his hand snaked around the back of your neck. Your mouth and nose filled with water as you struggled against him and he turned to hold you under. He pulled you back up only as you were certain you would drown.

You coughed and sputtered as the water erupted from your lungs. He kept hold of you as he angled you against the wall of the tub and pinned you there. You blinked in terror as his green eyes stabbed you like daggers.

“You realise I hold your life in my hand?” he slithered, “That I would have you killed for your disobedience if you were any other. That I will if your use does expire.”

You nodded frantically as he leaned in, his nose close to yours as you smelled the wine on his breath. “I do, your majesty,” you croaked.

“You will not have another chance, mouse,” his hand slid around to your throat, “You are not the only woman with a cunt.”

You pressed your hands to the bottom of the tub as you stared back at him. He moved his knee between yours and slowly parted your legs. His hand went to your chin and he held you against the tub as he lowered his head. His lips tickled your neck and you shivered as the water swirled around you. You cried out as he sank his teeth into your skin and began to suck. You squirmed as the pressure built to unbearable. He pulled away with a pop and admired his mark.

“Remember who you belong to. Who has given you your life.” He snarled as his thighs pushed against yours as he slid against you. His member pressed to your folds as your legs hung over his. “I have given you purpose.”

He reached between your bodies and rubbed his tip along your cunt. You trembled as he found your entrance and poked, teasing you as he drew away several times, marveling at your reaction as you bit your quivering lip. Finally, he prodded you more firmly and slipped in an inch at a time. Your legs tensed around him and he crushed you against the tub as he impaled you. He kept himself at his limit as he shuddered.

“Do you still ache, mouse?” He squeezed your chin as his other hand fondled your chest. “You do fit me well.”

You let out a whimpered as your defiance threatened to break. You clenched your jaw as he thrust and your entire body jerked. You reached up and grasped the brim of the tub as you body slid against the marble. He rocked into you slowly as his breath mounted. He tweaked your nipple as his grip threatened to crush your jaw.

He sped up as he folded your body against the tub, your legs splayed around him as he rutted into you. He grunted loudly as his eyes never left yours. He watched the play of pleasure and pain across your face as he fucked you harder each time you murmured. 

You slapped your hand against his shoulder as you felt the singular pang. That rise which would send you over the edge of sanity. Your fingers curled against him and you hugged him with your thighs as your lips parted in ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back as you came and he slapped you harshly before clasping your chin again.

“Look at me,” he growled. “Don’t look away.”

You whined through bared teeth as the waves flowed through you. You twitched wildly as he was egged on by your reluctant orgasm. He grabbed the tub behind you and clung to it as he moved even closer. You were trapped between him and the marble, painfully so. He poked his thumb into your mouth and his hot breath washed over you as he pressed his forehead to yours.

He spasmed but did not slow. You felt him spill inside of you as he let out angry snarls. He only stopped as his body recoiled at the overstimulation and he buried himself to his hilt. He exhaled slowly and wrapped an arm around you as he turned to sit against the tub. He held you in his lap as his heart raced and he framed your chin in his hands as he made you sit up.

“Show me why I should keep you, mouse,” he tilted his hips and you whined. He trailed a hand down your arm and grasped your hip. “Go on and fuck me, whore.”

Your lashes fluttered and you bit back your anger. The wine, his wrath, his pride; it was a dangerous mix and you knew it was not the time to test it. You moaned as you rocked and he gasped at the friction. He began to harden again and you felt him grow inside of you.

“Mmmm,” he purred as kneaded your ass, “Faster…” you sped up as his other hand tickled your back, “That’s it, pet. Obey your master.”

🐍

Your night wore on by the king’s hand. When you thought he would sleep, he riled again and by the morning, you were tender and worn. You were tired, drained of all strength, all resistance as you body overrode your mind. As Loki used it against you.

You didn’t move as he finally parted and dressed in the early dawn. He uttered some cloying words about his inevitable return but you could only lay paralysed across the sheets. You feared he had broken you entirely. It was enough to use your body but you felt your wits scattered beside you. There was safety in his desire; not only from his own cruelty but the man on the other side of the doors. Loki was evil, but the lesser of many.

He left and you did not move. You were plummeted into a black sleep, so deep and void that it felt as death. You did not wake as the sun reached its peak or even as it began its descent. You woke only when you were disturbed by the touch of your tormentor. As Loki moved between your legs, uncaring of your fatigue, and again made his will your own.

Time blurred as glimpses of the morning were shrouded by the deepest dusks. Your hours were marked by hollow sleep, pierced only by the unrelenting hand of the king, and the mindless sustenance of your body. You were a puppet and you had no choice by to let him dangle you from his string.

It wasn’t until you felt a different touch and saw a different face that life seemed to call to you. That you recalled where you were and who you were. Birger, the silver-haired man with the face of a crow, sat on the edge of the bed as he moved your head and felt along your chest. You looked at him dopily and took his hand. You squeezed.

“She is senseless, your majesty. She has no physical malady but her mind…” He untangled his hand from your and pulled the covers up to your chin. “I would never question your deeds but she must rest. She must be nurtured unless you prefer a husk.”

You giggled. You couldn’t quite grasp his words but as another voice rose, you choked and lashed out. The blanket fell away as you cried out.

“Nurtured?” The king echoed. “And what would you recommend particularly?”

Your arm was caught and folded over your chest. Birger replaced the cover over you and hushed you as he rubbed your cheek. “Be calm, girl.” He drew away and you listened to a subtle rustle. “I will treat her today with a sedative and you will leave her be.”

“And tomorrow?” The king asked as the clink of glass sounded beside you and you felt a slender rim against your lips.

“Just a little, dear,” Birger tipped the vial and the glossy tincture coated your tongue. “Well, your majesty,” the man stood straight and you closed your eyes. The bitter taste turned sweet as your sight began to darken again. “You might offer her more than your own company. You might do more than play with her like some toy.”

The voices mingled as you sank down again, floating on a breeze that carried leaves and the smell of pollen. The void was gone and you were free, running in the fields toward the sunlight.

🐍

You felt a soft stroke along the back of your head. The song of birds filled your ears and your lashes slowly lifted as your vision cleared. You were clothed in a crisp nightgown, the blankets rolled beneath your arms as your chest rose and fell. You finger twitched and you groaned. A hand closed around yours.

“You’re awake,” the familiar voice sang, “Hey, it’s me.”

You turned your head back and forth as you grumbled and blinked away the fog. You focused on the figure beside you. Gilla wore a yellow dress as she sat on a stool and cradled your hand. She smiled back at you.

“Gilla?” You rasped. “What’s--”

You coughed and she let go of you. She reached for a crystal glass and held it out. “You should drink something.”

“How did--” You looked around. You were still in the king’s chambers though they were markedly brighter as the curtains had been drawn and the windows were open to let in the air. You tried to push yourself up and fell back heavily.

“Shhh,” she grabbed your arm as she balanced the cup in her other hand and helped you sit up. 

She handed you the water and pulled another pillow behind you to prop you up. You took the glass and drank deeply, more thirsty with each gulp. You handed it back shakily and glanced around furtively. “Where is he?”

“Who?” She asked, “Oh, the king?”

“I…” you twined your fingers together, “Yes. Where is he?”

“He is at council.” She said. “He said he would return to check on you after he finished.”

You were confused. You couldn’t recall how you’d woken thus. “I don’t understand. What’s happening? Why are you here?”

“The king said you missed me and you were sick.” She pouted. “I missed you. I thought… I thought you were dead. And because of me.”

You sighed and a sudden surge of anger went through you. You grimaced and pulled your hands apart.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-- I never--” She reached for your hand, “I was foolish. Selfish. And you saved me.”

You looked at her. You wanted to smile but couldn’t. You shrugged. “It cannot be undone.”

“You… seem well off now. If not a little weakened.” She looked around the chamber. “A king’s favour--”

“Favour?” You recoiled. “Are you that shallow? This is no favour. This is prison!”

“But… he has clothed you, fed you, and kept you from the dungeons--”

“Is that what he says? He may have plucked me from a cell but he did throw me down there first.” You hissed. “Gilla, you don’t know. You can’t.”

“I don’t know. You’re right. How could I? It was a king’s man who came to me to tell me you were alive. Barely. And that you needed me. Your own uncle still thinks you dead, if not imprisoned and fated to be so.”

“What do you think this is? Do you think I am the king’s amour? Hmm?” You spat and the effort made you dizzy. “I am nothing but a whore. He made me that! I did not want it.”

She hung her head and shook it. “He did say you might be delirious.”

“You--” you gathered your strength and threw the blankets aside. You turned your leg over the edge and she gasped. You faced her and scowled. “You think he would ever tell the truth!? To you? A peasant?”

“You are still a peasant too,” she countered. “Please, I did only come here to see you well and the king, he has made sure to keep you well.”

“No, he has put me in such a state. Do you not understand? I live a nightmare every day.” You stood and stumbled as she rose in a fright. You nudged her aside and unsteadily made your way to the window. “I will never run through the city square again or play in the tall wheat before the harvest. I will only ever be his and when he disposes of me, I doubt I will be alive.”

She was silent as you leaned heavily on the sill. You did not look at her, you could not. You gazed out at the palace wall and beyond. Why had the king bothered at all? You were better to him as you were; weak and oblivious. Better for you that you had remained such.

You flinched as you heard the doors through the next chamber and Gilla moved behind you. “Your majesty,” she said meekly as you heard the footsteps pass over the threshold of the bedchamber.

“Is she...well?” The king asked.

“I am awake so you might ask me,” you sneered as you did not move. “I am not.”

He exhaled deeply. Your eyes clouded with tears as you watched the clouds. There was a new bite in the air. Summer was ending.

“Gilla, might you excuse us for a moment?” Loki asked. You scoffed, he was not one to ask of anyone.

“Your majesty,” she allowed and you listened to her slippers on the stone before the door closed between the receiving chamber and the bedchamber.

“You are angry.” He said.

“What does it matter to you?” You spun sharply and stumbled. He caught you as before your knees met the floor.

“You are weak,” he led you to the bed and sat you down. You shoved him away. “You should not be up.”

“You did this to me,” you huffed. “Why did you not leave me as I was?”

He looked down his nose and crossed his arms. “You were close to madness. I kept you from that.”

“You would drive me to it.” You snapped. “Why bring her here? Why have your physician feed me sour oils? As you said, I am not the only woman with a cunt.”

He sniffed and his brows drew together as a line formed between them. He stared at you and slowly his lips curled. “I brought her so that you might realise what I could do to her if you continue to behave thus.” He warned. “And I did see to you so that I might have a toy worth playing with.”

You scoffed and grasped your knees to keep from slumping over. Despite your anger, you couldn’t help the disuse of your body which had you so drained.

“I see. A torture more cruel has never been known,” you mulled. “Well, you can send her away. She is no friend of mine. Not anymore.”

“You would toss her away for your self-pity?” He wondered. “You would spurn all courtesy I allow you and for what?”

“Courtesy?” You snickered darkly, “I have nothing. You have allowed me nothing and I will not allow you to wave bait before me and snatch it away.” You clutched the nightgown in your fists, “Have you not done enough?”

He considered you. His cheek twitched and his jaw clenched. Slowly, he approached you and bent to look you in your eyes. “Your majesty,” he corrected, “You do forget yourself.”

You squinted at him and repeated those venomous words; “your majesty.”

Loki smirked and touched your cheek. His green eyes fell down your body and he shoved you so that you fell onto your back. You closed your eyes and braced for him. He laughed and retreated. You opened your eyes and watched him back away.

“You will gird yourself or I will have that girl lashed.” He warned, “Or perhaps I shall give her to my guard. He does like the innocent ones.” You lifted your head and struggled to sit up. You watched him as he neared the door. “You care for her still. It is obvious. Let us keep that in mind going forward.”

His grabbed the door handle and twisted. You seethed as he peered over his shoulder at you.

“You’re awful.” You uttered.

“Oh, I know,” he said and pushed open the door, “You might keep watch on her,” he called to Gilla, “She is still very sickened and your company would do her well.”

You listened to him go and Gilla appeared in his stead. You laid back on the bed and turned your back to her. 

“Do be quiet and let me rest.” You muttered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, noncon, trauma)
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You receive an unexpected visitor as the king behaves unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter!
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

Gilla left as the windows began to dim and a cool breeze washed over you. You remained as you had been, on your side, arms crossed, filled with rage but dragged down under a blanket of fatigue. But sleep wouldn’t cum and closing your eyes only made your head pound. 

So you stared at the canopy that hung from the corner of the bed as Loki’s words echoed in your head. You might be angry with Gilla, you might never forgive her, _but could you let her be punished by the merciless king and his cronies?_ You couldn’t deny that it was nice to have company other than the king but you couldn’t help but think of that day. _If you hadn’t followed her, if you had just left her behind… would she be in your place? Would she be worse off?_

It didn’t matter. You were the one thrown in the dungeons and whipped. You were the one wrenched out of them and tormented by the king’s depravity. And you were the one laying in the early evening shade wishing none of it had happened.

You heard the door to the receiving chamber and you sat up. You sat at the edge of the bed and stretched out the cramps in your arms and sides. The white silk around your body sent a shiver up your spine and you looked over as a shadow appeared in your peripheral. You ignored it as you stood and closed the window.

“The autumn has come,” Loki said as the window snapped shut. “Even the leaves begin to turn.”

You ignored him and kept your back to him as you peered through the mosaiced glass. His footsteps moved lightly along the floor as you sensed him pacing behind you.

“I am still your king. You cannot ignore me thus.” He demanded.

“Your majesty.” You said firmly and swept away from the window to sit on the bench.

He sighed and took your place by the window. He leaned against the sill as he watched you and you stared at the floor. 

“What is the matter?” He asked.

You looked at him sharply and clenched your jaw. If you said all that you thought, he might just toss you to the dungeons again _. Was it truly worse than here?_

“Nothing, your majesty, merely awaiting your orders.” You said blithely.

His forehead wrinkled and he tapped his heel on the floor. He played with the front of his jacket and pushed his hair behind his shoulders.

“Do you know how long you were… disposed?” He asked.

“Does it matter?” You shrugged.

He watched you, his eyes strayed to the front of the white sleeping gown; it did little to hide your figure. You resisted the chill that crept through you and tilted your head.

“More than a week. Close to two.” He answered his own question. “I had my physician feed you and see that you were sustained. You did not sleep for all of it but when you were awake… well, do you recall any of it?”

You swallowed and shook your head. “So why did you not rid yourself of me then? Barely any use to be had.”

He wiggled his long fingers and pushed himself from the sill. He neared and stood before you. He looked down his long nose and you refused to look back.

“I did think of it, I cannot lie, but I spent too much time upon your training, little mouse.”

“Training?” Your eyes flicked up in disgust.

“Perhaps I might not harness your mind but your body does respond to me,” he bent and grinned as he brought his finger up under your chin, “But I might have left you overwrought. Birger did recommend I allow you some rest.”

He dragged his thumb over your lip and you recoiled. He snickered and stood straight. He backed away and strode around the chamber.

“There is a proper meal on the table. You must eat if you are to recover your strength,” he let out a long breath as he neared the door, “And for this night at least, I shall restrain myself from you.”

You sneered at him. “Am I to thank you for that? When you put me in such a state? Oh, what pious abstinence you have, my king.”

He laughed again and his tongue slid over his lip. “My king…” he mulled, “I do prefer that, little mouse.” He curled a finger towards himself, “Come. Eat. And do try not to look at me so, it riles me.”

You tore your eyes away from him and did not move. You listened to his movement and there was a gentle rustle. He neared again and a rush of air swept around you and a swath of dark fabric settled over you. Loki encased you in the black robe he often wore. He braced your arms through the cloth and pulled you to your feet.

“Be angry with me.” He chided, “It assures me that you are well.”

He turned and tugged on your wrist as he drew you with him. You were too weak to resist and in that instant, the king was being more malleable than you’d known him. So you let him and prayed he was not upon another trick. A night without his touch would be the closest to content you could hope for.

🐍

Loki slept beside you but kept away from you. You were surprised and wary of his distance but he did nothing but snore softly and twitch now and then. When he woke, he called Hal to ready him for his day, and left you as you were. His calm had you unsettled. He had a sinister patience and you knew, it would not hold out.

You rolled out of bed shortly after. The wardrobe was unlocked and you dressed in a green gown and block stockings along with a pair of beaded slippers. You ate the bread, cheese, and grapes waiting for you in the receiving chamber and sat with your thoughts before your empty plate. Your stomach was painfully thankful for the meal.

You watched noon rise through the window. The sun beamed at its apse as the scent of fall whisked in. _How long had you been in the royal abode? More than a month? Maybe two?_ You couldn’t remember. The blur of days one into the next unsettled you. _Would the rest of your life pass in the same despondence?_

You were disturbed only by the noise of armor outside the door. You shuddered as you thought of Magnus and the last words he’d said to you. Loki had distracted you from the villain on the other side of the wall. _What would keep him from intruding in the king’s absence and seeing through his promises?_

The muffled timbre of his voice gave you pause as you began to pace. You heard boots on the stone as he was met by another. You recognized the tones but could not place them exactly. You wrung your hands as you faced the door and listened.

“The king is away,” Magnus huffed. “He is not expecting you, your highness.”

“I have seen to it that he isn’t,” the other returned. From his title, you could guess it was the king’s brother but for what reason he would come to the capital, you could not surmise. “Is the girl within?”

“The girl?” Magnus repeated.

“Do not act dumb with me, you brute,” Thor snapped, “You know of whom I speak.”

“She is but she is to receive no company but that permitted by the king.” Magnus declared.

“I am still a prince, I shall permit myself,” Thor rebuffed and the door jolted suddenly as the handle turned. The guard growled as the prince forced his way into the chamber and you retreated behind the sofa. “Ah, there you are.”

“Your highness,” you eked out as you looked around. “The king--”

“The king is at council, I know. I have come to surprise him.” Thor boomed. “And you, sweet maiden.” He approached the other side of the couch. “I see he keeps you well,” he peered down at your gown, “But I think red might suit you better.”

“There is wine in the cabinet,” you offered, uncertain what else to say.

“Perhaps later,” he said, “Why do you shy away? Do I scare you, my lady? I promise I am no villain.”

You shook your head, unable to find your voice. He chortled and rounded the sofa. You stumbled back and caught yourself on the straight back of the couch.

“I have been astride for much of the last days, perhaps you might accompany me on a walk of the gardens? I would do well to stretch my legs.” He stopped before you.

“I cannot-- Lo-- The king--”

“You let me attend to my brother. I handle him better than any.” He held out his hand. “Come, lady. As the seasons change, you would be remiss to remain pent up.”

“I don’t--” You began.

“Whatever displeasure he finds in it shall be my burden, not yours,” he insisted, “But if you should go against a prince, he will find his own recompense.”

It was a threat. A subtle one. The brothers, as dissimilar as they appeared, were more alike than any could know. You did not dare to test his words.

“I would not go against you, your highness,” you took his hand meekly, “Is it very cold outside?”

“A cloak might do you well,” he eyed the length of silk around your hips as he untied his cap with his other hand, “You might borrow mine.”

“Thank you, your highness, but I--”

“Let us be off,” he draped the red cloak over your shoulders and dropped your hand to tie it beneath your throat. “It has been a time since I was in the capital.”

He took your hand again and pulled you to the open door. Your eyes met Magnus’ as you were guided out into the corridor. He turned to face the prince.

“I should go,” Magnus said, “The king has charged me with her safety.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Thor smirked, “I shall be there. She needn’t anymore protection than my own.”

“The king--”

“I will not remind you of my title again. If you are so concerned with your master, dog, why don’t you go find him?” Thor snarled.

He brushed past the guard who scowled at the dismissive gesture and led you down the corridor. You were off-balance as he tugged you along and you struggled to keep up with his long steps. The stairs proved near treacherous as your nerves had you unsteady. The stone passed you by as your thoughts raced.

As you came out in the sunlight, the prince’s hand went to the small of your back and his gait slowed. He drew you closer as he led you around the façade. The tall hedges stood at the other end of the yard and the song of birds mingled with the vines that grew over the walls of the palace.

“I was rather disappointed that my brother cut our introduction so short,” he said at last, “And he was so quick to be away I thought to come visit him instead.”

“Oh,” you watched your skirts move around your legs as you walked.

“I do love my brother, even if he does not think so.” He neared the maze of greenery and inhaled the scent of pollen and dirt. “He can be so… detached. And I was almost insulted to think he would hide anything from me. Especially a creature such as yourself. It is as if he does not trust me.” He shook his head and looked down glumly. “Why, he would not have the throne if I had not abdicated. Not that I’d want it back. He is better made for that than I.”

You said nothing. There was nothing you could say. You were a peasant and a whore. Your grasp of politics was sparse if not comical to those born to it.

“Tell me, lady, where did my brother find you? I never saw you at court before.”

You looked away and examined the bushes. You felt thin as air, ready to dissipate into nothing.

“I am not of the court, your highness.” You confessed.

“Oh? A servant then? Gods knows my father did have a taste for them as well.”

“I am-- was a crafter. I worked in my uncle’s shop.” You replied. 

“Ah…” The prince thought, “And he was a patron to your uncle’s business.”

“Well… no. We worked with clay and wood more than silver or gold. He--” You blinked. _How could you say it? Should you?_

“You needn’t be shy with me, lady. I am only curious about my brother’s pet.” He mused and you frowned. “Oh, I see, you do not like that. Well, what should I call you? What are you to him?”

You stopped short and he turned to face you as his arm slipped from behind you. “You might guess at it but I don’t think it needs to be said.”

He chuckled and puffed his chest. “I see.” He squinted, “He always did like a woman with a will. And to think a peasant might dare to act as her own… My brother is not so complicated as he pretends.”

“Your brother will be upset you broke into his chambers, I think.”

“And as perturbed that you did go with me, my insistence be damned.” He grinned. “I am not your enemy so do not make me one.”

You averted your eyes and carried on as he turned to walk beside you once more. You were quiet, pensive. You recalled the tournament and how you had sneaked out; it was the last you had been out on your own feet. You followed the prince as he knew the labyrinth well and your gaze strayed to the thorny roses as you reached the centre.

“Sit,” he guided you to a stone bench, “I wouldn’t think Loki allows you much time without his chambers. If you were mine, I wouldn’t either.” He winked and pivoted on his heel, “Perhaps when I am here, I might find a lamb of my own.”

You watched his broad shoulders as he fingered the petals of a rose.

“I love my wife but she nears motherhood and thinks more of the child than her own husband. She isn’t of the condition to tend to my affections,” he mourned. “But a man has needs and if a wife cannot serve her husband, he musts seek them elsewhere.”

You shifted on the bench as he continued along the brush. “My brother is wise. When he finds a wife, he can retain you still. You see wives are not so… daring.”

“Surely not,” you muttered. “Are there not whores in your city?”

“Whore-- do not be so crude,” he reproached. “But I’ve not yet found any I should like as a mistress.”

You nodded as you watched his back. He continued around the border of the small square at the centre of the maze. You gripped the edge of the bench. You bent as if to stand and he didn’t seem to notice. Your heart began to patter as you stood. As the thought dared to flit through your mind.

_When would you ever see the outside of the palace again? When had you so long away from the king? When had a chance ever shone so brightly before you? Why, you had been arrested upon your intrusion so how difficult should it be to reverse your trespass?_

You stepped slowly along the bench. Thor bent and plucked a rich red bloom. He stood and turned to face you.

“Do you dare try it?” He wondered. “Do you think you might get far?”

Your eyes flashed and you froze. He smiled and held up the rose to his nose.

“Go on and lose yourself in these hedges. I will wait an hour before I report back your flight.” He snickered. “More than enough time.”

“What-- Why?” You sputtered.

“Because it is what you want. Because my brother did lie to me. Because I enjoy his temper.” He came closer and flicked away the rose. “Because I have been bored for months.”

“No, no. We should go back.” You deflated. “If I run…”

“He will be most unhappy. And to think what he should do to you.” He tutted. “But if you don’t run,” he pushed his cape back on your shoulders and cupped your tits. “To think what I should do.”

You shoved his hands away and fell back on the bench. You caught yourself and spun so that you came up on the other side of it. He bent and placed his hands flat on the stone. “So, my dear, do you think you might evade me for long enough? If you do, do you think you might elude my brother too?”

You blanched and your skirts caught on the bushes as you backed away.

“Oh, but let’s be fair. I shall count one hundred seconds before I seek you out.” He raised his hands and covered his eyes coyly. “Better be quick, my lady.”

You peered around in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious and yet he began to count aloud and your blood turned cold in your veins. You trembled and turned on your heel. You rushed to the other side of the square and lunged into the winding pathway. If you could retrace your steps, you might escape and tell Loki what his brother did. But the king might not believe you; surely he wouldn’t and you would be the one to atone for Thor’s lust. Though if you could escape them both…

You raced blindly along the hedges as Thor’s count faded, though it floated on the air still. When it stopped, your chest clenched. You were lost. You’d tried to recall all the way you’d come but it had all been scrambled by the adrenaline pulsing through you. You stopped and hissed as your lungs burned. You clawed at the laces along your throat and threw the cape over the hedge. You continued back and turned along another path.

You heard steps on the other side of the hedge. You stopped and listened as you walked slowly along the dirt. You heard a laugh and you got down on the ground. You slid beneath the bush, more so, into it, as the leaves pricked your skin and tickled you. You tugged your skirts after you as your ears burned at the noise of the prince’s pursuit.

“Oh ho, my lady, I know you are close.” He stomped along the next hedgeway, “A clever trick but you forget who I was raised with.” 

His boots came into view as you stilled in the bushes. You hoped the green silk helped hid you amid the leaves and dying buds. He stopped and knelt for a moment. “But which way did you go? I shall sniff you out, little lamb.”

You covered your mouth as ripples of fear swallowed you up. You squeezed your eyes shut as he continued his taunting. At last, he stood and turned back the way he’d come. “I hear you…” he called ahead of him as he rushed on, “Gods, I will have you!”

You let out a breath as his voice trailed away. You didn’t dare move in fear that he might come back. Though Thor did not share the same reputation as his brother, you suspected he was just as bad.

🐍

The sun had shifted to the west when you finally emerged from the leaves. The sky continued to darken as you wove through the walkways. You stopped only when you heard the clink of armor and the call to assemble. The guards had been searching for more than an hour by then. You kept close to the bushes and sank back in as you avoided the marching sentries.

You came out near the outer walls of the palace grounds. You caught your breath against the stone and ducked down along the brush. It wasn’t far from here that you’d been caught that fateful night. As you watched Gilla climb to freedom and you were dragged back down to your oblivion. 

You could see the moon as the sun began to set. It was a sliver of hope. The search carried on as you kept to the shadows and the statues. Several times, you’d nearly been caught. Each, you were certain you would. Once, you tried to start a scale of the wall but had been scared back down by the voices below.

You crept around to the gates and watched from behind the plinth of a tall statue of an ancient king. You watched from your vantage as the guards stopped each person and each cart to inspect. You might be able to sneak under the axle of one. _Might_.

The longer you stayed on royal grounds, the more likely you’d be found out. You couldn’t go back now and feign being lost. You couldn’t blame Thor when he’d surely already expounded a tail of your deception. You had to get out.

You stayed low as you watched the soldiers search a cart and as they moved to the other side, you approached the large wheel. You heard a thump and shout. The wheel jerked and you barely avoided being crushed as you crawled beneath the cart and hooked your arms and legs into the axel. Your skirts swept the dirt beneath you as you were rattled along.

Clear of the gates, you slowly let yourself down and laid flat until the cart passed over you completely. Stunned, you opened your eyes and felt your body, making certain you hadn’t been mangled without realising it. You sat up and peered around. The city beckoned to you. _Welcome home!_

If you could hide in the alleys, you could find a way out. You might even get to the next village before any knew it and from there, you’d be lost to the wind.

You took a step forward and were suddenly jolted back as an arm wrapped around your waist. The heavy mail was cold through the thin fabric of your dress and you were slammed against the wall as a shadow scowled down at you. His heavy breaths seared you in the cool night air.

You squirmed as the gauntlet stretched across your throat and you picked at it helplessly. Your slippers slid in the dirt as you beat at the angry wraith that held you. He leaned in and inhaled so that it tickled your cheek.

“Sneaky little bitch,” Magnus growled.

“Let me go!” You tried to bend his finger back. “Get off!”

He scoffed and tore you from against the wall. He turned you and gripped the back of your neck as he marched you away from the palace and down the road. He kicked your feet as you dug your heels in and thrust your forward. You realised, he wasn’t taking you back.

“Wait, where are you taking me?” You struggled as you latched onto his wrist and he squeezed until you winced. “You monster, get--”

“I’ll kick your fucking teeth in,” he snarled, “Now shut up, whore.”

“You can’t--”

“I can do whatever I want. The king’s charged me to find you. He’s angry enough, imagine how much worse it’ll be when I return empty-handed…” He sneered, “Imagine how the days will feed his temper. To think what he will do when you are eventually discovered.”

“What-- You--”

“If I have to tell you again, I’ll do worse than he ever did,” Magnus twisted your arm back and forced you ahead of him. “Not that I won’t try anyway.”

You whined as it felt as if your arm would snap. He kept on as he steered you towards the dark streets of the city and into a long alleyway.

“It’ll be a pity if his whore should turn up dead,” he snorted, “Pity either way for you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, forced oral, violence, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage.
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You find yourself in a new prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In advance, sorry. Guess that’s all I can say hahaha.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

Your shoulders ached as your weight tugged at your muscles. A folded length of ribbon was tied around your eyes and your hands were bound above you. You dangled on your tiptoes in the chill cellar. Your gown was little protection from the late autumn air that permeated the underground. Your teeth chattered and you shivered ever now and then.

_How long had it been since you’d been left there?_ Magnus had been gruff and silent as he dragged you down the steps, nearly tossing you down them. He shrouded your vision almost at once and shackled your wrist with a warning that he would break your fingers. You thrashed out at him blindly as he secured you to the hook above; like a pig awaiting the butcher.

The door slammed and a heavy locked churned, signaling your desolation. You screamed at first, until you were breathless and hoarse. None arrived to save you from the trap. Silent, you hung weakly and nodded off for only a few minutes before you were roused by the thought of your reality. 

You felt as if you would cry but sniffed it back. You wriggled in the thick metal cuffs and kicked out as you tried to free yourself. That didn’t work either and the hours passed in helpless paralysis or frantic writhing. You felt death in the cold air of the chamber.

When at last the rusted hinges shrieked, you raised your head cluelessly and tried to see through the cloth at your eyes. Heavy footsteps entered the cellar and you counted two pairs as they shut the door in their stead. 

_Had Magnus brought Loki to you? Would the king dole out another punishment to you for a crime not your own?_

It was quiet, tense, as the footfalls paced around you. You gripped the chain that held the cuffs together and sensed a warmth before you. A large, thick hand framed your chin and turned your head back and forth. A dark chuckle made you gasp.

“Was it very hard to catch her?” Thor asked as he squeezed painfully and tilted your head up.

“Fish in a barrel,” Magnus replied. “The challenge was going unseen.”

“Oh, yes, my brother is rather upset,” Thor pulled down the strip of fabric to fall around your neck. “And how could he not be.” He ran his thumb along your bottom lip, “Without his little pet?”

“Why?” You quivered as you tried to shake him away. “Why are you doing this?”

You were shocked by the strike across your cheek. Your head spun and you turned at the end of your restraints before the prince righted you and brought you to face him again.

“I have no reason or obligation to explain myself to a peasant,” he sneered, “But you can assume that I have the same needs as any man. As the king himself.”

You hung your head as metallic blood gathered at the corner of your mouth. Your cheek throbbed as you tasted iron. Thor forced your head up again and admired the way your lip already began to swell.

“Did you do anything to her?” Thor asked.

“Not yet,” Magnus snickered. “Can’t say I wasn’t tempted.”

“Good,” The prince released you and untied his cloak. The scarlet cloth fluttered to the floor. “And you say he took her from the dungeons?”

“Put her there first,” Magnus replied flatly. “She never knows when to shut her mouth.”

“Mmm,” Thor hummed and reached to unsheath a blade from his belt, “Among her other charms, I’m certain.”

He slid the knife beneath the top of your dress and tore it through the satin easily. Your bodice fell open as he sliced through the skirts. The gown unveiled your nudity as he stood back and nudged you so that you spun from your shackles. He grasped the loose fabric and cut it entirely away from your body, letting it fall in shreds atop his cloak.

You pulled at the cuffs and grunted as you kicked at the stone floor. A wave of panic mingled with your anger. “You can’t--” You were silenced by another smack, this one across your ass.

“I could gag her. Or break her teeth?” Magnus offered.

“You will do as I bid,” Thor rebuffed, “I’ll have my fun first.”

He turned you to face him again. He took your head between his hands and rubbed your temples cloyingly. He dipped his thumb down to your mouth and pushed it inside. You bit him and he hissed. He curled his thumb beneath your tongue and sent a pang through your whole body.

“No biting,” he snarled, “Or I will do worse to you.” He warned. “Use that mouth wisely, pet.”

You glared at him but did not try again to bite him. You were terrified truly. The two men could kill you easily and you had little faith that they would not when all was at an end. Your mortal cowardice stilled you and had you prone to the prince’s will.

“Let her down to her knees,” Thor ordered as he let go of you and took a step back. 

He picked at the top of his breeches as Magnus moved to the pully which held taught the rope attached to the hook above. He turned it and Thor grabbed your shoulders. He pushed down until you were on your knees, your hands still held over you.

“Alright, pet,” he purred, “You may pretend I am your king, if you prefer, but I promise you will know it is me.”

He pushed open his trousers and reached inside. He pulled his member out and stroked himself until he was hard. You looked away as Magnus’ shadow caught your eye. The guard watched without emotion. You closed your eyes as the prince came closer.

He pressed his tip to your lips. You held your mouth closed at first. He growled, a low wordless threat, and you parted your lips. He slid inside, just a little and groaned. He caressed your head and his fingers stretched across the back of it. He urged his cock deeper and prodded at the back of your throat.

Your eyes watered as you tried to steady your breath. He forced himself deeper and sank down until no air could pass his girth. He held himself there and wiggled his hips. Your neck strained and he retreated slowly before thrusting down your throat once more. His voice was smoky as he rocked against you.

“Mmmm, fuck.” He swore, “How long it has been.”

Your mouth made sloppy noises around him as he sped up with each tilt. Your head pulsed as you struggled to catch your breath. Your eyes streamed and rolled back as spit leaked out around your lips. You shuddered in disgust as he used you, his grunts and groans feeding your derision.

“You ready to taste me, pet?” He snarled, “Be a good pet and drink me up.”

He hammered into you even harder, your throat raw and ragged as he did not relent. He turned your head up as he plunged into you over and over. His voice bounced off the walls and a tremor rippled through his body as he came. The heat of his seed flood your throat and mouth around his thick cock and he slowed a little at a time until he was still.

He pulled out of you and quickly forced your mouth shut. He covered your mouth with his hand as his other spread over your neck. He bent over until his nose met yours and you opened your eyes.

“Swallow,” he hissed.

You obeyed and withheld a wretch. He smirked and stood straight. He sighed and lifted you to your feet. He rounded you and pushed on your shoulders until you bent. He gripped your hips and pulled you back. His wet cock rested against your ass as it twitched.

“Just a minute,” he rasped as he rubbed your bottom with one hand. You kept your eyes on the floor as your arms were bent awkward around your head.

He slid two fingers along your thigh and felt around your folds. He tutted as he felt how wet you were. You shook your head, ashamed of your body’s deceit. He circled your entrance and pushed into you, stretching you around his thick fingers.

“You’re fucking tight,” he said, “Is my brother not using you enough?” He pulled his fingers in and out of you, “You sure do feel as if you are wanting, pet.”

He fucked you with his fingers and his heady breaths sent tingles across your flesh. When he withdrew his digits, he spread your folds and guided his cock to your entrance. He slid between his fingers, carefully, and pushed his tip inside. You tensed around him and he groaned. He retracted his hand and grasped your hip, impaling you in a single motion and jolting you entirely.

“Shit,” he croaked, “Oh, pet, you are delightful.” He moved you against him as your walls clenched around his thick cock, “You fit me so well.”

He rocked your body against his and had you back on your tiptoes as you struggled not to topple. If you did, you would only wrench your shoulders and injure yourself. He grabbed your shoulder as he rutted you and brought his other hand around your neck to force your head up.

“Use her mouth,” he demanded. You looked away as Magnus neared at the prince’s order. “Be a good pet,” he squeezed your chin and you opened your mouth weakly.

You closed your eyes as Magnus fumbled with his belt and you quaked around Thor’s intrusion. Thor’s hand snaked down to your other shoulder and Magnus replaced his along your jaw. He slid into you without warning and filled your throat painfully. His other hand went to the back of your head and he bobbed you up and down his length.

“Yeah, like that,” Thor uttered, “My brother is so selfish not to share you.”

You twined your fingers together as the men moved you between them. As Thor slid your cunt up and down his cock, Magnus did the same to your mouth. The two men rutted into you until only the clapping of their flesh and their grunts could be heard. Your own thoughts were scrambled as you only prayed for it to be over.

Thor sped up and hammered into you. You choked on Magnus as you were forced closer to him and the prince mewled as he emptied inside of you. He slowed and still but did not pull out, instead guiding your head.

Magnus growled and you felt him quake. He muffled his voice as he spilled into you and you tasted his salty seed as it bubbled around his cock. He pulled out of you roughly and his cum leaked from your lips as Thor kept you against him, still buried deep in your cunt. He jerked his hips and you whimpered, coughing up more spit and seed onto the stone.

He slid out of you carefully and you felt his cum leak out as he did. He slapped your ass and you fell to your knees. The prince moved around you, a shadow beyond your haze, and you felt a tug above you. He wound the gears until you were on your feet again, your soles nearly off the stone.

“Fuck her,” Thor commanded.

Magnus turned you to him and lifted your leg. He reached to your cunt and pushed his hand roughly against you. He stopped and looked to the prince. “Can I have her ass?”

“No, not yet,” Thor snipped as he tucked his cock in his trousers only to rub himself through them. 

Magnus huffed and his nostrils flared. He lined himself up with your entrance and took you off the floor as he plunged into. He brought your other leg up, hooking his arms beneath your knees as he tilted into you. You hung your head back as you were held aloft by the shackles. He bounced you against him without restraint; every thrust harder than the last.

“You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low as it rumbled through you, “This is what you want. What you always wanted.”

You whined and your thighs trembled as you tried to resist the heat that bloomed in your core. You bit your lip as his pelvis rubbed against your clit and he slammed into you over and over. Your tears fell freely, almost without notice, and you squealed as you were overcome with pleasure. You bent your legs around his thick arms and came around his cock.

He grunted louder with each thrust into you. He worked your body against his and let one of your legs fall loose as he gripped your neck. He choked you as he lost himself in his lust. You heard Thor too, his breath shallow and shuddery.

Magnus climaxed with a snort and held himself deep inside you. He lifted you from his cock and left you to dangle again. Your thigh grew slick with cum as you hung helpless, awaiting their next move with dread. You whimpered at the tenderness between your legs and in your throat.

“You still there, pet?” Thor snapped his fingers in front of your face as he fondled your tit. “Come on, we’ve only just begun.”

🐍

You were numb. If life with Loki was harsh, your existence in the hands of Magnus and Thor was the worst hell one could know. You languished in the dank cellar when they were away with only the frightful anticipation of their return. Those times you did manage to sleep were little relief as your nightmares were haunted by the same men who controlled your reality.

There were hours, maybe days, when you were left alone. You had no way to keep track and you suspected your guess wasn’t very close. You were let down every now and then to relieve yourself or to eat the meagre meals provided by your captors. The stew that turned your stomach and tasted worse than the bile always rising in your throat.

You could barely recall what came before. Your life in the city, your time in the dungeon, your months spent in the king’s chambers. It was as if none of it had happened and this had always been your lot.

When you did think of Loki, you were foolish enough to miss him. _Was it any better than this?_ You remembered him using you too; remembered his cruel green eyes and his restless hands. And yet, it was all just a blur to your addled mind.

You cried often but tried not to when they were there. When they were there, they used you. You lived on their will, you served your purpose and were easily tossed aside like a doll. _Your body was not your own; had it ever been?_

The pain was unending. It surged through every part of you; your muscles, your bones, your very soul. There was no way out. You would die in this place, at the hands of these men. You would be forgotten to this grim cellar, just another casualty of aristocratic greed.

You were half-asleep when the door woke you. You hated that noise; dreaded it more than anything. You didn’t look up; you didn’t need to; couldn’t bring yourself to. The men’s faces were etched into your mind; they were all you saw, waking or otherwise.

A shadow loomed over you. You felt a warm hand on your chin and your head was lifted. Thor stared at you and turned your head back and forth. 

“Pet,” he rubbed your cheek, “Can you hear me?”

You nodded dumbly and he smiled. Your vision cleared and his features came into focus.

“Get her down,” he gently released your chin, “Sit her down and get her a blanket.”

Your arms fell before you, still held together by the shackles. You were moved to sit on a stool and a musty wool blanket was thrown around you. Thor sat on another stool as Magnus paced behind him.

“Do you know how long you’ve been here?” He asked.

You shook your head and hugged the blanket around you. You shivered. “Forever,” you whispered.

He laughed and reached to rest his hand on your knee. “What is it, Mag? A month, now.”

“Just over,” the other man assured. 

“And after all this time, the king continues his search,” Thor said mockingly, “Not realising you are right beneath his very nose. Beneath his own brother.” He laughed loudly and smacked your knee before he drew away. “But Loki is not that stupid. He will catch on. We must move you.”

“No,” you rocked and kept your head down, “Kill me.”

“What?” Thor sputtered and it was Magnus’ turn to laugh. “Pet, what use are you then?”

You raised your head and blinked. You looked between the men and your eyes stung. _How awful they were._ You had never thought any could be so vile.

“Please,” you begged, “Just do it.”

“You are confused.” Thor said, “You don’t seem so unhappy when I’m inside you.”

You recoiled in revulsion and lowered your head again. Your stomach ached and you felt sick. Your nausea had grown worse with each day. You didn’t know if it was the rancid stew they fed you or the unyielding anxiety. You rubbed your stomach; it was firm and warm beneath your hand. You were surprised by how full it felt at your touch.

Thor’s eyes went to the movement beneath the blanket and you peeked up at him. He nodded and for once, his blue eyes were serious. He stood and grabbed your elbows to bring you up to your feet. He pushed the blanket open and you flinched. He touched your hand.

“Have you not looked at yourself?” He asked.

“What?” You breathed.

He slid his hand beneath yours and pushed his rough palm to your stomach. You looked down and bit down at the sight of your body. There was a subtle roundness to your middle not there before. Your breasts were swollen too and tender as the edge of the blanket tickled them.

“You’re with child, pet,” he said glumly.

You gaped up at him in shock. You shoved him away and covered yourself. The chain between your shackles jingled as you turned and hid your face. “No, I cannot…”

“It is neither of ours,” he said firmly, “You are further along than that.”

“Then…” you gasped, “Then why keep me?”

“I’ll find a place for the bastard. I cannot say my brother would do the same.” Thor said. “And you are still early, you are still…”

“Capable,” Magnus intoned. “If we’re lucky, we can fuck the child out of you.”

“Don’t be so crass,” Thor reproached. “Pet,” he neared and touched your shoulder, “If we move you, and you promise to behave, then we will settle you somewhere comfortable. For you, for the baby, until your time comes.”

“And after?” You kept your back to him and shrugged away his hand. “What am I to do with a child?”

“You wouldn’t be able to-- A royal bastard… must be hidden. You cannot stay with the babe. It would be dangerous for both of you.”

“Dangerous?” You spun to him, “For me or you? You only want to keep me hidden from your brother. To keep me to yourself and for what reason? You’ve a wife, a child? Was she not due already?”

He scowled and crossed his arms as he backed away. “Now, pet, you must understand--”

“A child would ruin me. You wouldn’t want me after so why--”

“Because I am a prince and I can do as I wish,” he hissed. “Now, I am giving you a choice, and let me tell you, I do not do so often so I can move you somewhere where you and your child will be healthy or I can keep you in another cell and fuck you until you are bleeding.”

You reeled at his tone. Your stomach churned again and you groaned. _A child? It was too much to think of, but to be kept as you were?_ That was unbearable. If it was only your own life, it would be an easy choice, but it wasn’t just you anymore.

“I’m…” you sat before you could collapse. You hunched and hugged your stomach with one arm. “I’m sorry.” You looked up at him, “I’ll be good.” You swore and bent over. “I’ll--” You wretched onto the floor and your entire body convulsed. “I’m scared.” You admitted as you stared down at your vomit.

“Good,” Thor taunted, “You should be.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, forced oral, violence, mentions of pregnancy.
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You’re journey is perilous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for being so enthused about this fic. I love Loki! And I’m glad to be back on it.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

You weren’t certain when but you were taken from the cellar in the dead of night. You barely stood on your own as Magnus uncovered a cart of barrels reaking of ale and snarled for you to lay in the space between them. The prince, shrouded in a grey cloak, helped you up and tossed the same smelly blanket over you. You shivered as snowflakes gathered in the creases of the wool and your patchy tunic and loose trousers offered little shield from the cold.

You had missed the first snowfall. It brought back hazy memories. A girl you once knew, Gilla, and her hand-sewn boots kicking through the powder. You curled up on your side and held your stomach. You were still in disbelief and as it were, the men were undeterred by your change. That life you had before seemed further and further away.

“Keep quiet, pet,” Thor girded as he gripped your ankle through the blanket, “I’ve given my leave to keep you silent in any way necessary.” He squeezed until you looked at him through the bleak, moonless dark, “Think of the child.”

You uttered some instinctual acquiescence and dropped your head. Your teeth chattered and you were shrouded entirely as the wagon was covered once more. You heard their voices, hushed and hard to decipher as they moved around the cart.

“He knows…. cannot say…” the words swirled behind your closed eyes. It was the first you’d laid down in what they claimed was weeks. You were so very tired. “Short rests… old roads…”

You felt the cart shift under a sudden weight and a horse nickered as its heavy hoof stamped the snow. A slap on its hind and a final word from the prince, a grunt in return from the deceptive guard, and the wheels jolted into motion. You were lulled by the movement, the soft rumble of the wood beneath you. You drifted off in the eerie silence of the city as you were secreted between the kegs.

Your dreams were distant and dull, tinted by the sounds around you. The grind of the axle, the occasional grumble of your driver, the spitting of the trotting horse, the muffled slosh of ale beside you. When you woke, you were as cold as before and you rolled onto your back as the chain between your shackles stretched across your middle. The cover glowed with daylight and you heard the stirring of the winter time critters who had not retreated to a seasonal sleep.

You slipped in and out of consciousness. You were awoken once by your keeper, he tossed you a heel of bread and a stein of milk as he took his own meal at the foot of the cart. He didn’t share the cheese or dried meat from his pack. Your stomach growled greedily as you devoured your rations and laid back down.

The wagon bounced along the winding roads, you didn’t know where you were headed. You were rocked by the uneven ground and pondered slipping out from beneath the cover and absconding through the snow. You had no boots however, only cloth wrapped around your feet. And you were weak, so weak.

As it grew dark again, the cart slowed and stilled. You didn’t move as Magnus jumped down and caused the wagon to shake as he did. He rounded to the tail and noisily tapped one of the kegs and you heard the first droplet spill into the snow. He filled his skin with the pungent alcohol and you listened to his thirsty and thick gulps. He replaced the stopper and belched as he crawled up beneath the leather cover.

He nudged you over until there was space for him. He pushed the blanket away from your hips as you rolled onto your side. You reached, clumsily as the chain caught your wrist, and tried to pull the wool back over you. He smacked your hand and hooked his fingers under the top of your trousers.

“It’s fuckin’ cold,” he growled as he pushed the trousers to your ankles with his toe. “Need to warm up, eh.”

You sniffed and squeezed your eyes shut. His scent surrounded you, his warmth too as he pressed against you from behind. He shoved his arm under you and wrapped it around your neck, the thick muscles forcing your head up against his shoulder. He opened his breeches impatiently and wiggled his cock free behind you.

He was rough as he felt around your ass, kneading you roughly as he lingered at your ring. He pushed his thumb against your asshole but snorted and slid his hand further between your thighs. He prodded blindly against your entrance, poking you painfully several times before sinking into you. You whined and his arm tightened around your neck.

“Shut up, bitch,” he moved his hips between his gristled breaths, “Stubborn… think you’d learned by now.”

His intrusion was painful and your body aided little as you were mostly dry. Your walls burned around his thick member and you arched against him to ease the fullness. He breathed into your scalp as he pleasured himself in your pain.

He stopped and trembled. He brought his other arm around your stomach and rolled onto his back, taking you with him as he lifted you atop him. You groaned in pain as your hips ached and he grabbed your knees, bending your legs as he planted his feet and angled himself beneath you.

The trousers fell away from your left angle as he splayed you and rutted into you from below. You clamped your lips shut as you tried not to cry out. You clutched your hand over your chest as he moved your body against his.

“A cunt. That’s all you are.” He hissed, “You think the king fucking cares about you or that pathetic whelp. He’ll find another whore; a prettier whore.”

You bit your lip as your chest swelled. You couldn’t deny his words and couldn’t say you ever thought Loki wanted you for anything besides his own whims, but it only made your circumstance more torturous. From one man to the next, you were a slab of flesh to be twisted and molded to their use.

His hand slipped from your leg and he pushed it against your cunt. He spread your folds as he hammered into you, holding in grunts that nestled in his chest. He lifted his hand and slapped your pussy so that it stung. The sound of the slap made you gasp and he did it again.

“That’s it, bitch,” he snarled, “Make me cum.”

You whimpered as he continued to slap you, your clit reverberating with each strike. His heart pounded as he finally held his hand between your legs and curled his fingers into your flesh, framing his cock as it slid in and out of you.

“You’ll be filled with me by the time we arrive,” he sneered and spasmed as his voice fizzled with his climax. “Shit!”

You felt his hot seed burst inside of you and he let himself down as his legs slid straight. He panted heavily and pinched your thigh gruffly. He pulled out of you and played with his cum as it dripped out of you. He spread it up your cunt and wiped his fingers on your tunic. He hummed and shoved you off of him.

“Clean me up,” he grabbed the back of your neck and forced you up. “I can’t sleep like this.”

Reluctantly, you moved down, keeping low under the leather shroud, and bent over him. You rested your shackled hands on his hip and gripped him tentatively. You took him in your mouth and held back a gag at the taste of him. You glided up and down his length a few times before you drew away. Content, he waved you off and tucked himself back into his breeches.

“Now lay the fuck down,” he pulled you down by the back of your tunic. “I’m fucking tired.”

🐍

You were once more roused by the motion of the wheels. The snow crunched beneath them and you were once more huddled and freezing beneath your meagre blanket. You listened to the horse and the silence of the white plains around you; at least you imagined they were plains. Perhaps there were trees, tall sentinels to witness your fate.

You sat up as far as you could and leaned against a keg. You felt sick again. The tunic rubbed uncomfortably against your tender breasts and you felt around for the oat biscuit you’d saved from your last meal. You chewed on it but nearly choked as the wagon suddenly lurched.

The cart veered and you listened. It was some time before the sound of hooves came clearer as they stamped across the snow. You heard the howl of hounds and the voices of men. Your driver swore and the cart halted all together.

You felt his weight leave the vehicle and heard the whisper of metal. Snap, snap, the leather broke easily against the blade. The horse whinnied in panic and Magnus demanded that it run. The horse obeyed and the wind whistled around the sword as you tried to imagine the scene. The crack of steel against steel and the cry of an unseen man.

Your captor’s flight was impeded but not entirely as you heard your accosters call for him to be caught. The hooves continued, fading into the puffs of powder. You braced yourself and buried your face in your hands. _A party of thieves would find you and what worse could they do?_ A new prison, a new sentence.

You rocked back and forth. Perhaps they might kill you. That was the only swift escape. You listened as low orders were exchanged outside and footsteps neared the end of the cart. You didn’t look as the end of the cover was unstrapped and rolled up. Not even as the wood groaned beneath new weight. 

Gentle fingers touched your shoulder. A soft voice startled you. Your name was spoken with a care which felt unreal. “It’s me.” The boy said and you raised your head. His rosy cheeks glowed beneath a wool cap that let out wisps of his carrot-coloured hair, “It’s Hal.”

You blinked as him numbly and grasped his hand without thinking. You squeezed to make certain he was real. He winced but did not pull away.

“We found you,” he said, “Come on. I must take you back.”

“Back?” You uttered and your stomach sank. “To the king?”

“Yes,” he rubbed your shoulder, “King Loki.”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, “He will… he will be angry. He will think I ran. He will hurt me. He does hurt me. As they have.”

“The king is not angry,” Hal assured you, “He has fretted for weeks over you. And when he has caught up to his treacherous guard, he will make certain he suffers for his crimes.”

“He… what do you mean?”

“The king is in pursuit of Magnus right now. He bid me find you so that he might catch his betrayer first and bring him to justice.” Hal trailed his hand down your arm and took yours from beneath the wool blanket, “Come. We must get you warm. You are freezing.”

You sniffed and let him guide you to the end of the cart. You kept the blanket around you and an armored man approached. You winced. Hal stopped you from stepping down into the snow. He bid the guard get another blanket and ordered another to stoke a fire. A pit was made close by as two of the guards attached their own horses in place of the one taken by their quarry.

“I will remain with you,” Hal said as a kettle was hung on a makeshift spit over the fire. “Once you’ve something warm in you, we are to move to Alfres Castle and the king shall find us their.”

Just a boy, you thought, but he was a comfort nonetheless. You’d never thought to meet him again but there he was. You nodded and accepted the second blanket. It was thicker and lined with lambskin. You hugged it to you and rested your chin against it. You were heartened to no longer be trapped in Magnus’ grasp but you feared your return to Loki’s.

🐍

The castle was only an hour’s ride from where the king’s party found you. Upon your arrival, you were ushered inside and more guards stood by the castle’s gate and doors in expectation. Hal guided you through the halls and to a chamber at the top of a winding staircase. He lit the hearth and brought you a basin and cloth to wash. He left a clean dress, this one with full length sleeves and skirts.

He returned, when you were clean and dressed, with a platter of food. You ate without hesitation and found yourself painfully full. You sat close to the fire, unable to shake the chill of your days spent in the cellar and then in the back of the wagon. You sat in silence but the boy didn’t seem to mind.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said, “I recall the king did not like me speaking with you.”

“The king told me to remain close until he has returned,” Hal shrugged. “If he takes issue, I will make certain it is with me.”

You watched him thoughtfully. “You are brave.” You said.

“Am I?” He wondered. “I don’t think so. I am obedient.”

You chewed your lip and looked away. “Well, I think so.” You muttered.

“You should lay down. I can bring a hot brick to warm your feet.” He offered. “The king might not be back until the morning.”

“What will he do… to-- to--” You quivered and hugged yourself to keep from shaking. Your thighs ached as you thought of the night before; of those which had marked the last month of torment.

“He will kill him.” Hal said coldly. “And better for it. I never did trust that brute.”

You stayed silent as you raised your head. The boy watched you and you saw the pity in his eyes.

“I followed him one night. I warned the king that Magnus was acting odd. He would be sent out to search for you and he’d returned with some lame excuse. So I went after him and found him sneaking beneath a butcher’s shop. I told his majesty but when he thought to look for himself, you were already gone.” Hal leaned forward and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle you hadn’t touched. “Magnus didn’t return either. He gave himself away.”

He sat back and drank. He winced at the taste and frowned into the cup. “Huh, I always thought wine would be sweet.”

“What would you have done if he had caught you?”

“Well, I’d probably be dead,” he set aside the cup. “I didn’t think of it though I should have.”

“And the king… why did he want to find me? Was he not mad? Surely, he thought I had fled.” You urged.

“He did. At first. I did, too.” He stood and sighed, “I wouldn’t worry for what he thought before. You should sleep. I will have the warmer brought up and you will rest.”

“And will you?” You countered. “You’ve done much today.”

“For a short time, I think,” he smiled. “Your questions do make me rather sleepy.”

He laughed at his own quip and you let out a weak chuckle. His boyish humour amused you as it broke through the veneer he fought hard to keep up.

“Thank you, Hal.” You slowly stood from the chair.

He bowed his head and strode to the door. He left you to the crackling of the wire and the winter gales blowing against the shuttered windows. You went to the bed and hid beneath the covers. You never wanted to move from there. Ever.

🐍

Through your deep slumber, coaxed by the warmth of the fire and the blankets around you, you heard the door. Soft footsteps moved around the room, brighter than when you’d dozed off, and distant movements flitted with the shadows. A log clacked into the hearth and the flames lit the space as your lashes fluttered sleepily.

You felt a figure sit on the edge of the bed and a hand rubbed your arm through the layers of blankets. You murmured and rolled onto your back as you gazed up at your new visitor. Loki’s face was serious and sombre. There was a hint of pink at the tip of his nose and along his cheeks. He had just come in from the cold.

“I have failed. Both of us.” He said. “Magnus cannot be found.”

You pushed your arm from beneath the covers and grasped his wrist. “Magnus…” you said weakly, “And…”

“Shhh,” he hushed. “You are tired. I am too.”

He squeezed your shoulder and stood, your arm falling as he drew away from your touch. You watched him as he removed his tunic, then his breeches. He kept his undershorts on as he stretched before the fire and basked in its glow for only a moment. He retreated from the hearth and disappeared around the other side of the bed.

He pulled up the corner of the covers and slid beneath. He sidled closer to you. He seemed hesitant as he turned on his side and watched you. You closed your eyes as your uncertainty made your nerves wild.

“You didn’t run?” He asked at last.

You opened one eye and looked at him. You shook your head and closed your eye again. “Not from you,” you croaked.

“Yes, my brother and his games,” he said. “I will make certain he never plays one with you again.”

Your lips parted. Your nose crinkled. Did he not know? You wondered if you should say something. Surely, he must have caught on.

“Thor,” you said quietly.

“Yes, Thor,” He confirmed as if you were dull. “Such a pest but I must put up with it.”

He shifted closer and carefully pushed his arm over you. He let it down gently and went rigid as it settled across your stomach. He pulled back and spread his long fingers over your middle. He sucked in a sharp breath and retracted his hand as he pushed himself to sit up. He pulled the blanket away from your torso.

Your eyes snapped open. He stared at your stomach as you crossed your arms over it and tried to hide. He caught your arm and pulled it down to your side. His eyes flicked up to yours.

“You’re…” He looked down and you saw the calculation on his brow, “It must be…”

You nodded. “Yours.”

He went quiet and slowly lowered himself beside you once more. He nestled close and drew the blankets back up over your bodies. He hugged you to him as the heat of his flesh seeped into you.

“I will find Magnus and I will make him beg for death,” he said.

You gulped as his fingers swirled over your stomach. “You’re not angry with me?” You asked.

“Perhaps for not telling me when I did come in,” he said, “But for your condition, no.”

“I…” You began but could not figure what to say.

“Sleep,” he bid. “It is a concern for tomorrow.”

🐍

Loki stirred as a knock came at the door. A pounding that frightened you and had you sitting up in terror. The king waved you back down as he took a robe from a hook and wrapped himself in the dark fabric. He went to the door and opened it with a grumble, asking who it was.

“Brother,” Thor’s voice made your blood cold. You pulled up the covers as if to hide beneath them. “We looked all night. He is nowhere to be found.”

“Mmm,” Loki huffed, “Well, come in.”

He beckoned the prince inside and you only watched their shadows as you dared not move. You felt eyes upon you but didn’t look back. Loki went to the hearth and poked the embers with the long iron. He added a quarter log and stepped away.

“You haven’t an idea of his direction?” Loki asked.

“North.” Thor said plainly. “I can only assume he’s headed for a port. His only hope is to be away from the country.”

“As if I will not sniff him out,” Loki spat and a chair scraped on the stone floor. You heard his deep and angry breaths. “She is in condition. He endangered royal issue. He is a traitor.”

Thor cleared his throat and sat too. “And she is… far? You are certain--”

“A woman does not show after a month and she is growing.” Loki rebuffed.

“Only a bastard,” Thor remarked, “That is trouble itself.”

“A bastard. Illegitimate. My betrothed needn’t worry her precious royal cunt.” Loki slithered. “And you are not one to lecture me on marital loyalty. How are Lady Jane and your new daughter?”

“Healthy. She expects she might be ready to visit court in the spring.” Thor said.

“Ah, and ruin your fun?” Loki taunted. “The baker’s daughter isn’t very subtle.”

“Oh, but she is fun,” Thor chortled. “I give her a pretty bauble and she’s got me in her mouth as she wears it ‘round her throat.”

“Perhaps my bastard might have a friend of similar bearing,” Loki mused.

“She is cautious. She says her father would murder her.” Thor returned. “And if it came to it, how could I know it was mine? These peasants… you cannot say where they lay.”

“Mmhmm,” Loki tutted, “I suppose you are right.”

“Well, brother,” Thor stood, “Speaking of the wife, am I permitted to depart now?”

“My men will continue the search. I did promise you a respite.” Loki said, “I will see you back in the capital.”

“After Wintertide,” Thor affirmed, “Jane would have my balls if I was not home for the occasion. Not now with the little one.”

“Very well. Away before this snow has us all trapped.” Loki trilled.

The door opened and closed. The hinges made your blood boil and your spine rigid. You sat up and stared at the door. You were in a trance. Horror bubbled in your veins. 

“L-L-Loki,” you said the king’s name without thinking; no title, no courtesies, but pure fear as you gripped the covers in your fists. “He--He--- Your brother---”

“Does think me stupid.” Loki rose and came to you. He coaxed you back down and unknotted your hand from around the quilt. “He did not find Magnus because that little shit would tell it all in an instant if he thought it would save his own head.” Loki growled as he twined his fingers through yours. “I know everything, mouse, but one rat at a time.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, violence, trauma, allusions to torture.
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You return to the capital but much has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter?! What!!!!! It took me a little to decide on how it was all going to unfold but I’ve figured it out and personally I think it’s just getting more and more intriguing.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

You spent another day at Alfre castle. Loki left you to the chamber glowing with the constant spark of the fire and you were thankful for the space. Hal brought your meals and sat with you as you opened the shutters to look out onto the snowy yards for a time. When the chamber grew brisk, you closed them again and sat beneath a fur by the hearth.

It all felt surreal; like a dream. When you slept, you woke with a start, convinced you were still in the cart rocking between the slosh of barreled ale. As consciousness struck, you reached to your stomach and another shock came. There really was a life inside of you. You still weren’t certain how to feel about it.

On the third day, Loki roused you in the lowlight of the early dawn. He dressed without Hal and rubbed his eyes as he yawned. He had been busy, at what you did not know, or dare ask after. He pulled on an ermine trimmed cloak and handed you a lined cape of your own.

“Are we leaving?” You asked quietly as he hovered by the fireplace.

“We must,” he replied as he leaned on the mantle and watched the flames flicker to embers. “It is a long journey and I’ve much to do.”

You hadn’t talked much in the past days. It wasn’t that you and the king had ever had very much to speak on but there was a shift. It made you uneasy; afraid.

“Ask me.” He said as he turned to you.

“What?”

“I see it on your face, mouse,” he smoothed a fold in his cloak. “So ask me what it is that makes you quiet.”

“I’ve always been quiet.” You argued.

“Ah, but you’ve ever been obliged to counter my every word,” he went to the table and took the sewn hide gloves. “So speak to me.”

“Th-- Your brother. If he knows I am found, how is he still confident?” You wondered. “Does he truly think I would not tell what he did?”

“You underestimate my brother’s arrogance,” Loki chuckled. “And he believes he is unscathed because I’ve assured him he is. Before I sent him off after his accomplice, whom I knew he would not return with, I assured him it was the guard alone who had plotted against me.” He pulled on the gloves. “I saw the glimmer in his eye. I heard the guilt in his voice as he asked again after you. I told him you were too addled to recall what happened to you.”

“And he doesn’t suspect your deception?”

“My brother is not so clever as that. It is the very reason he gave up the crown.” Loki neared and braced your shoulder, “Up, mouse.” You stood and he swept the cape around you and tied it at your throat. “Say what you will of my father, gods rest him, he was a smart man, a wiser king. Thor inherited his brutishness but not his wit.” Loki stood back and his eyes flicked up and down you, “It is the only thing I would thank him for. And my mother of course. She was too intelligent for any of us.”

He spun away and paced around the small table. He turned back as it stood between you. “You’re quiet again.”

You stared at him. Loki rarely spoke his mind, his intent, his tricks so plainly. You were waiting; waiting for the cruel king who’d sentenced you to a cell and then his bed. For the man who had dangled you before the beasts who’d done worse.

“When we have returned to the capital, it will be as it was…” It was a question, a statement; you weren’t entirely sure.

He lifted his chin and inhaled deeply. “You are as you were; my bedwarmer.”

You nodded and pulled the cape snug around you. You didn’t expect any different.

“But you carry a royal bastard. I must consider that, too.” He continued. “I suppose, it cannot be entirely the same.”

Silence. Long, tense, hot despite the dying hearth. He looked at you and for a moment, you saw pity in his green eyes.

“Mouse, go on.” He urged. “I am listening and I haven’t time to coax your words so tediously from you.”

“Why not… Send me away. I’ll only grow bigger and when the child has come--”

His face hardened and he gripped the back of a chair. “It is my child. And you remain, as before, mine. You will have your time to convalesce but I see no reason to have you away from me.” He lowered his face, “Unless you do prefer the cell again.”

You swallowed the threat. You knotted your fingers together and nodded. Loki hadn’t changed, only the circumstance. A different sort of cruelty than his brother, but cruel nonetheless.

“Should we go, then, your majesty?” You swayed on your legs anxiously.

He looked up and pushed himself straight. “Let’s,” he waved you across the room, “When we are returned to the palace, Birger will need to look you over and we have delayed for long enough.”

He opened the door and waited for you to near. As you came to the door, his hand settled on the small of your back. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “That child means there is a part of me in you. A piece of my life. A king’s life is sacred; to threaten even a drop of his blood is treason. You mightn’t care for yourself but you will see my child safe.”

You turned to look at him and his gaze pierced you to your core. You pursed your lips and nodded. He nudged you through the door and caught your arm before you could go far. He took your hand as he guided you down the spiral stairs.

“Be cautious,” he said, “These steps are treacherous.”

You let him see you through the descent as your blood grew cold. You watched the dark ends of his hair mingle with the pale fur of his collar. A shiver crawled over your flesh and you blinked away tears. _Had you been stupid enough to think he cared for you?_ No, it was only what you could do for him; what you could give him.

🐍

You were ushered into a carriage, this one unlike the frigid cart with its stout kegs. There were cushioned benches and fur blankets awaiting you. You suspected, however, that if it wasn’t for your condition, your transport would not be so generous. Hal sat across from you as you broke your fast on nuts and oaty bread. The boy’s task was to make sure you ate and rested upon the journey. Well, there wasn’t much else to do or that you wanted to do.

He was quiet as he opened a book and read and you peeked out around the curtains, the hooves of horses trod through the snow noisily, and the voices of your escort rose now and again. You hugged a fur around you leaned against the wall of the carriage.

You peeked over at the boy. _What was it to be a man? To be a noble?_ He might be Loki’s attendant but he had more freedom than you could dream of.

“What is it you read?” You asked curiously, bored of the grinding turn of wheels and powder of snow without.

“A Reflection on Knighthood and Gallantry,” he closed the book and smiled up at you. “The king bids it.”

“The king tells you what to read?” You wondered.

His smile grew brighter and his cheeks coloured. “He does now that he has named me his squire.” He declared. “This book is a guide on how to be a proper knight.”

“And you can learn all that from letters?” You squinted.

“And the king would teach me combat by sword,” he explained, “Train me to fight in his name.”

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “That is a great honour. Do I call you ‘sir’ now?”

“Not yet,” he chuckled, “My lady--”

“That will never be my title,” you frowned, “I am still just… what I was.”

His smile fell and he watched you. He bent his head and thought before he spoke again. “The king did worry. He is only stubborn about his thoughts. Mostly about his emotions.”

“He cares for me as he does his favourite horse,” you scoffed, “If he could not ride anymore, he would merely find a new steed to carry him.”

“But you carry his child,” Hal countered, “That is a blessing.”

“A curse. A child I will not be allowed to love.” You folded your hands before your stomach. “A child many would hate for its ill-breeding.”

Hal was quiet. He set the book down on the bench and shifted. 

“I was with him when you disappeared. He was angry at first. That is often his first reaction. He thought you had run from him after how you’d been arguing since your illness. Then when his men did not discover you, he was concerned. And he saw the change in his brother and his guard.” The boy lowered his voice, “As I poured him wine, of which he drank much, he confessed he thought you dead.”

“And that thought troubled him?” You challenged.

“I think it did. He did not say it but he did not need to.”

You shook your head and sighed. “He would find another.” You said, “Easily. There are hundreds of peasants on the very streets I came from.”

“Well, he did change in your absence and the shadow has fallen away from him since your return,” Hal said softly, “Even as he readies for his betrothed he does linger with you.”

“Betrothed…” You’d heard the word before, from Thor. You hadn’t bothered to ask, hadn’t been so concerned or brazen. A king would need to marry eventually. You dared to hope it might distract Loki from you. “He is to marry?”

“A young princess from Ervil,” Hal said, “Syndia. She is expected in the spring.”

“So why should he want me back? He will get a proper heir on his bride.” You grumbled.

“Yes, why should he?” Hal grinned.

“Oh, hush,” you scowled, “You are young. The world seems romantic at your age. You will find it is truly tragic.”

The boy was quiet and his expression remained cheerful as he watched you. You tried to ignore him as you hunched in your seat. You pressed your palms to your stomach as it stirred. _Were you hungry? Nauseous?_ It was hard to tell one from another.

“Stop,” you snapped at last as you looked to Hal again. “Don’t look at me thus.”

“My…” He stopped himself from the misplaced title, “I am happy to have you back, even if you will not believe it.” He said and took up his book again. “It was quiet without you.”

🐍

The capital was white with winter. You couldn’t bear to watch the streets pass as you entered the city. You would only be reminded of the life you’d never have again. You were tired and achy from days in the carriage. Sleep came in spurts but when you dozed, you returned to the grasp of your former tormentors. Awake, you never quite shook their hold on you.

You rolled through the gates of the palace and your carriage was directed around the back. You were shown into the royal abode apart from Loki; still a secret kept. 

As you were ushered down the corridors by the armored guards, you found it hard to keep your feet moving. You were reminded of Magnus and you had the stabbing urge to flee. The further you got, the more the finality of your sentence returned to you. You hadn’t been rescued, only returned to your former keeper.

You were shown into a chamber apart from the king’s. The change roiled your nerves and made you uneasy as you waited alone in the rooms. Perhaps he might be done with you. Perhaps you might wait out your pregnancy. Perhaps he might be diverted by his pending marriage and new bride. It might not be all as dire as you thought.

You paced as the door opened. Loki entered. It had been hours since your arrival but you hadn’t been able to rest. Every time you sat, you were back up on your feet within minutes. The king barely noticed you as he unbuttoned his deep green jacket and pulled a chair away from the square table for himself. He sat with a long sigh.

“You should not fret so,” he rebuked, “Sit. You will drive both of us mad.”

You stopped but did not sit. You turned to him and your skirts swirled around your legs. They were thicker than those he’d given you before; plainer. Thick wool padded for the winter air. He tilted his head as he took you in.

“My chambers are currently under repair,” he said, “So we will abide these.”

You chewed your lip and picked at the cuff of the gown. He kicked out the other chair and pointed to it.

“Sit,” he ordered, “Before I tie you down.”

You flinched. Your hands trembled and you clutched your wrist as you recalled the shackles around them. You still felt the weight; the skin still raw and tender. You remembered vaguely Hal and the guards struggling to unscrew them. You looked down at your hands and took a step back. You were overcome with a swell of terror.

Your legs crumpled and you curled up on the floor, covering your head as if you would be beaten. You rocked on your side and murmured, though your words did not make any sense, even to you.

You heard the chair, footsteps, and felt a warmth on your arm. You smacked Loki away as he touched you and you felt sobs lodged in your throat as you fought to hold them back. He caught your arm and cooed as he stroked your cheek.

“Mouse, little mouse,” he said calmly, “Shhh, please, stop this.” 

He snaked his arm beneath you as he sat on the floor and drew your upper half into his lap. He said your name and his thumbs gently brushed back and forth against your temples. He never used your name. You grabbed his wrist and your eyes rounded as you gaped up at him. You were helpless as your wits scattered around you.

“What’s wrong with me?” You whimpered.

“Nothing at all,” he moved to sit with you between his legs and leaned you against him. He rocked you back and forth as a hand stretched over your stomach and the other rested gently on your chest. “You’re safe.”

“No, no, I’m not. I’m not!” You shook and kicked your legs. 

He hushed you again as he continued to lull you. You gripped his leg tightly and he let you. He counted your breath as his fingers tapped lightly on your chest and you calmed after some time.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered. “Mouse, can I move you to the bed?”

You nodded and he carefully stood. He lifted you to your feet and led you with an arm around your back through to the bedchamber. He sat you down on the edge of the mattress and dusted off your skirts. 

“You’ve made a mess of this.” He sniffed and sat beside you to loosen the laces of the dress. You winced and he stopped. “I only want to lay you down so you can sleep, mouse.”

You went limp and let him strip away the dress before he laid you across the bed and pushed a pillow under your head. Your thin shift was taut across your swollen breasts and rounding stomach.

“I will call for Birger,” he said as his fingers danced over your middle. He stared down at your stomach and a wrinkle formed between his brows. “Rest.”

He drew the blankets over you and strode away. You heard him curse as he approached the door. You stared up at the bed curtains and curled your fingers into the bedclothes. You closed your eyes as you listened to your errant heartbeat. You felt trapped in your own body, as if it wasn’t your own.

🐍

You recalled the physician beside you. He felt your neck then your stomach. He said some words you couldn’t decipher as the king’s shadow loomed at the foot of the bed. A fire flickered and you fell asleep to the smell of the burning wood and the taste of something pungent.

When you woke, voices drifted in through the open bedchamber door. The king’s, another. You sat up dizzily and strained to hear their words. As they came clearer, you sat back against the headboard and closed your eyes again.

“The lady is here and her child. We did have to take a slow pace due to the babe.” The man said. “We’ve word the prince has barricaded himself at Starseed.”

“Ah,” Loki snickered, “Well, you’ve my maps. You know the tunnels, the passes. You’ve covered them all?”

“Four men to each,” the other confirmed. “The lady does seek an audience.”

“She will have it when I am ready.” Loki countered, “For now, you will keep her and my nephew comfortable.

“Your majesty,” you heard the clink of armor.

“And the baker’s girl?” The king prodded.

“She is in the dungeons, as you ordered,” The man replied.

“Excellent,” Loki slithered. “And she is fit to talk?”

“We await your orders.”

You opened your eyes and slowly turned your legs over the edge of the bed. You stood with the aid of the bedpost and crossed to the open door. You peered through and leaned on the frame.

“Gilla?” You asked.

Loki glanced at you and waved away the armored guard with two fingers. “As you were.” He dismissed him and stood. The man left without ado and the king stood to approach you. “Mouse, you should cover yourself.”

“What did you do to Gilla?” You caught his hands before they could meet your shoulders. “She is in the dungeon?”

“There are many baker’s daughters in this city,” Loki said evenly.

“Then tell me it is not her,” you demanded.

His mouth curved and he dropped his head. “Alright, come. Sit.” He twisted so that he gripped your wrist. “We will talk.”

He pulled you to the chaise and sat. You lowered yourself beside him as he let you go. He leaned back with the heels of his hands on the edge of the cushion and slung one leg over the other.

“It is her. She was… favoured by my brother who is now, by royal mandate, a traitor,” Loki said coolly, “And by association, it is necessary that we hold her until her innocence can be proven.”

You gasped and your lip quivered. “She… your brother…”

“Oh, she went to him all too willingly,” Loki preened, “As she did, upon my first unpleasant meeting with the girl, try to throw herself upon me.” His lip curled. “By his word, she is easily bought with pearls.”

You frowned and bit down. You were sickened by his words but could not disbelieve them. You loved Gilla but she had never been very smart. It was her foolishness which had led you to that point.

“You think she conspired with him to… to do what he did to me?”

“Oh, I cannot declare my brother, a prince, a traitor upon his perversions but I can and I have named him such upon his plot to steal back the crown he proffered.” Loki stated. “A conspiracy which I have evidence of enough to convict him twelve times over.”

“Convict? Traitor?” You tried to clear your mind of the fatigue that lingered. “Gilla wouldn’t… she’s not that--that--”

“She is dull.” Loki snickered, “Even my brother could see that.”

“So why--”

“I need witnesses for the trial.”

“Trial?”

“I cannot simply assert that my brother is a traitor. That could mean civil war. I must prove it, without a doubt, to the people. So I need witnesses against him.” Loki explained.

“And you would coerce Gilla to go along with your evidence?”

“Me? No,” he smirked, “But I think you could convince her to tell the _truth_ to the kingdom. On the gods themselves, to confess the prince’s treachery.”

“I…” you breathed, “But what would happen to her?”

“She would not have acted in my brother’s plot, but you know men do talk carelessly after their pleasure has been taken.” He sat up and looked you in the eye. 

“You wouldn’t hurt her?”

“She will be sent away.” Loki resigned. “Far so that none know of her fate.”

“And if I refuse to betray her?”

“Why, she’s already done the same to you,” Loki sneered, “But if you choose to stand on your obstinacy, I will draw the truth from her myself and she will not leave those dungeons whole.”

“You said you have evidence.”

“I do.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you not want vengeance? This is the way.”

“She is my friend.”

“She abandoned you. She left you that night of my coronation and when you did see her again, what did she do but preen in hopes of a jewel or coin?” Loki scowled, “She could not hide from me her envy of you. She coveted all I had given you. She did not care for your suffering.”

“And you?” You scoffed. “You don’t--”

“I never pretended to be your friend. I’ve always been straightforward in our… arrangement.” He shrugged. “You are kept well; you have clothes, food, and place in my bed. And despite your protests, you mewl in pleasure when you are at your duty.”

You stared at him; repulsed, stunned. You crossed your arms over your middle and lowered your head. One moment, he was holding you in his arms and cooing over you, the next he was speaking lecherously of how he delighted in abusing you. Threatening you into manipulating your oldest friend.

_But what else could you do?_

“Promise, she will be unharmed.”

“On my orders, my men will not so much as look at her.” The king affirmed.

You nodded and raised your head again. “Alright… I’ll talk to her.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, violence, trauma, allusions to torture, mentions of suicide.
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You struggle with the past, present, and future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that the holiday rush is over and my province is in lockdown, I can write so yay? But also, stress anew hahaha. Anyways, I’m enjoying it so it’s not too bad. :D
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

Your stomach curdled as you walked between the guards. For whatever foolish reason, you’d assumed Loki would accompany you. And even more foolish, you were disappointed when he did not. He was king and had much more pressing matters; his usual excuse. As true as it was, you were still irked by your task.

Your thick winter wool had been replaced by your former satin. The gown was not so sultry as before but it offered little protection against the chill of the palace corridors. You were allowed a cape woven in the king’s green, though the hood was to be kept up until you reached your destination. As before, you were the royal shame.

The further you descended, the more your nerves stormed. You remembered your first journey to the dungeons; the night felt long ago. Like many of your memories, it had faded since your time with the prince and his heartless accomplice. It was fragments but still sent a shiver through you. You could, at least, recall, the fear, the anger, the helplessness of your time in the capital.

Your slippers whispered over the stone floor as the gaoler showed you past the cell doors. The stink of unwashed bodies mingled with that of stale blood. There were coughs, some murmuring, and the occasional maddened shout from down the row. The cell you’d been left to was empty and open as you strode by and you refused to look within. It was at the next, that you were stopped and the thick key was shoved in the slot.

You touched your stomach, a thoughtless habit forming as each day saw you a little rounder. Your middle could still be hidden beneath loose fabric. Birger said not yet halfway through your time; maybe for months and with over a month of deprivation, you weren’t so big as you could be.

The door opened and the shriek of the hinges made you tremor. One prison to the next. You were no different than those locked behind these doors. You were kept and controlled. You had no voice, no will, no wants. You only did what was needed to survive.

One of the guards entered first as the gaoler stood with arms crossed beside the door. You heard a scramble within and you were ushered through by the other armored man. He grabbed a stool from against the far wall before he followed. You pushed your hood down and closed the cloak around your body as the frigid air nipped at your gown.

Gilla was dragged away from the wall where she huddled. She didn’t struggle as the guard brought her to sit at the center of the cell and the other planted the stool behind you. You sat and your hand dropped away from your stomach. Her hair was dirty and her face smeared with tears and grime. She was terrified and sniffled quietly as she blinked away the fog of her imprisonment. Your name on her brittle lips made your heart knot.

You recalled what Loki said and cleared your throat. This girl was not your friend.

“Gilla,” you said flatly.

“Have you come to save me?” She clutched her hands. “They found you! Oh, I’m so happy you’re safe--”

“And do you know who took me away?” You challenged. She shook her head in confusion. “So the man you sold yourself to never mentioned me. You never spoke in those times he came to you? Were you so easy to roll over to him?”

“The prince? Oh, if you send for him, surely he can get me out--” 

“Do you have no idea why you’re here?” You sneered, “Even if the prince could, do you think he would save a peasant?”

“The king… the king took you from the dungeons…” she batted her lashes.

“He did and what did he make of me but a prisoner elsewhere,” you looked away from her.

“I don’t… understand,” she lowered her chin. “I don’t know why they’ve brought me here.”

“Well, you best think on it and figure it out. The prince cannot help you for he is a criminal himself.” You looked down at her. _How had that little girl you’d grown up with become this? How had you come to this point?_ “He plotted against the king, surely you must’ve known.”

“How could I?” She babbled as her tears began to fall. “He never spoke to me of such things. He only wanted… love.”

“Love?” You scoffed and stopped yourself from laughing at her naivety. “Do you truly believe these noble men could feel anything for us but the basest desires? That their favour is little more than fodder for their egos? That they delight in our degradation rather than our pleasure?”

“Thor was always kind--”

“Thor used you.” You insisted. A lump rose in your throat. “As he did me. He… as he gave you jewels you have no use for, he got his use off me. He would have worn me until I was dead.” You inhaled and quelled the flurry of emotion inside. “But you never truly cared for more than your own self, eh?”

“What? I… we’re friends.”

“Are we?” You bit down. “I remember my time down here.” You looked around. “I remember how I was even dumber than you. To have begged the king to spare me. You left me behind that night and I was locked up like some animal. Whipped like some braying donkey.” Your mouth was bitter as you spoke, “Bred like a mutt. And when you saw me, still alive, what could think of but the silks and the gold and the crown?”

“I didn’t--”

“You must’ve been so worried for me to have fallen into the prince’s arm’s so easily,” You snorted.

“We all thought you’d run.” She squeaked.

“Oh? Yes then, I suppose it was easy to forget about me.”

“I never did. I…”

“This is the last favour you will have from me, Gilla.” You declared. “And I pray you are smart enough to accept it.”

She blinked, confused, and quivered as she stared back at you.

“Do not lean on your ignorance. The prince is a traitor and you laid with him. Who would believe that in all your time together, he never mentioned his intent against his brother?”

“He didn’t--”

“Listen to me.” You hissed. “The prince will be brought to trial for his crimes, but a whore like you can be cast away and forgotten by all. If you did abet him in his offenses, you will be dealt a cold steely justice. You will not be afforded the same hearing or the same grace as his highness. You are just another commoner fed to the jaws of the rich and their squabbles.”

“But I don’t know anything.”

“Think. Hard.” You stood as you snarled, “And perhaps by the time the inquisitors come to you, you will recall.”

“But--But I--”

“If it had been you that night, I wouldn’t have left you behind. Even if it was your stupidity which led us to trespass. I would have stuck by you.” Your chest tightened as you spoke, “I wouldn’t have abandoned you but I realise now, Gilla, that you never did care for anybody but you.”

“I love you, I do.” She pleaded.

“No,” you uttered, “I don’t think you do, but I did love you, my friend.”

“Please…” She sobbed.

“I will not see you again, I expect,” you said as the guard retrieved the stool, “So let us part without hatred. Take this last generosity from me and save yourself. Perhaps you might live to learn from it.”

“I didn’t know he… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe you,” you backed away. “You’re not sorry for me, only sorry for yourself.” You turned and bent your head. “Goodbye, Gilla.”

You strode through the door and the guards followed, signaling the gaoler to lock up behind them. You raised your hand and bit into your knuckle as you were overcome with despair. Your old life was over. The last remnant of your former existence was extinguished. 

It was your final surrender. You belonged to the king completely. Your body, your mind, your child; every part of you was his.

🐍 

You returned to the chambers exhausted. Those days, you were always tired. You hung your cloak and stood by the fire to warm your numb fingertips. You undressed quietly and retired to the bedchamber. You sat in your shift before the hearth and watched the embers beneath the tent of logs.

You thought of the baker’s daughter and that first day you’d met her. She had been sweet, once. _When had she grown so… greedy? How could one raised in simplicity come to want what she had never known?_ You closed your eyes and refused to cry. She would not break you; if nothing else had, she could not.

You floated in a haze as the orange glow of the fire shone against your eyelids. There was much yet to worry for. _Would the king’s men arrest the prince before he could evade them? Would the kingdom overcome the rent caused by the royal siblings? Would your child survive the months before you?_

Hours passed and you did not move. You stayed as you were, held by the moment. A taste of solace you hadn’t known in ages. No anxiety of your tormentors’ return, no fear of what was to happen in the next instant. It was just you and the hearth; you and your child in what could be the only peace you had together.

When at last you were disturbed by the gentle open and close of the door in the next chamber, you still remained. You listened to the king as he moved around and sensed his shadow as he appeared in the door frame behind you. He was quiet as he neared.

He said nothing, as if he believed you were asleep. You knew he didn’t but he let you think so. You listened to the rustle of his clothing as he shed each layer. As stubborn as he was, as much as he insisted nothing had changed, something had. You were both afraid of it but would not admit it.

You felt a tug at the bottom of the blanket spread over your legs. You tried to ignore it, thinking perhaps he had passed too closely. A rush of air flew up below the wool Loki’s fingertips tickled your ankle. You opened your eyes and looked down at him as he reached below your shift.

“Your majesty,” you yawned and shifted but he caught your knees and kept them apart. “What--”

He hushed you with a soft his and dipped his head below the blanket. You braced the arms of the chair as your body went rigid. He wore only his undershorts as he bent and plied kisses to your thighs in a torturous trail towards your pelvis. You grasped his head as he rolled your shift higher and higher and his breath grazed your cunt.

“My king,” you begged. You were trembling. You knew you could not stop him.

He ignored you still and kneaded your thighs as he pushed closer. His hands slid up your sides as he nuzzled the patch of hair between your legs and you gasped. You weren’t ready. You never truly were. His tongue surprised you as it flicked along your folds and he purred. He cupped your tender breasts as he delved into you, your core alight at his command.

He dragged his tongue along your bud and lingered on it, teasing it with small swirls and hungry suckles. Your arms flew back to grip the back of the chair and he rubbed his thumbs over your nipples as they stood out beneath your shift. He groaned as he lapped you up. His gentleness was disarming though he remained as adamant as ever.

“Please,” you begged as your body responded against your want. “Please…”

He purred and kept on, his head moving against your bunched up skirt and bobbing beneath the blanket. You arched in your seat, unable to resist the bloom deep inside. You felt the release and suddenly you needed it. All your stress, all your fear, anger, and hurt, bundled up and brewed inside you as ecstasy muted them.

You cried out as every muscle in your body tensed and eased in a split second. You moved your pelvis against Loki’s mouth as you rode out your climax and he didn’t relent until you were limp and breathless. He sat back on his heels and let the blanket drop to your feet. His hair was tangled and askew, his lips glistening as he grinned at you.

He rested his hands on your thighs and came closer so that he leaned against the front of the chair.

“My brother has been arrested,” he said. 

Your lashes fluttered and you nodded, speechless. He bent and the tip of his long nose met your stomach. He slid his arms to hug you as he turned and pressed his ear to your middle. You froze as you watched him, as if he was listening for the stirring of his child. You were startled by his tameness. He kissed your stomach as he drew back to look at you again.

“I need you.” He murmured, “I ache. Badly.”

You felt the stone set in your skull. Ever as you were, his plaything. You knew his meaning; it never differed. And he never asked, only demanded, 

He took your hand and stood. He pulled you up and you let him. You hadn’t the strength to deny him. There was no denying him. You didn’t want that Loki; cold and callous. So you would cede to his needs and hope they were met quickly.

He let you go as you neared the bed. He rolled down his shorts and his desire stood up before him. He lowered himself across the mattress and beckoned to you. You lowered your eyes and chewed your lip to keep from showing the turmoil raging inside you. You lifted your shift over your head and dropped it. 

He guided you over him and stroked his cock as he did. He pressed his tip along your folds, his hand on your hip as he urged you down. You sank to his hilt and he sighed. He stilled you and looked at the joining of your bodies. The silence enshrined you and you closed your eyes. He took your hands and placed them on his chest.

He gripped your waist and moved you atop him. Slowly so that your clit rubbed against him. You hated how good it felt, hated that you couldn’t stop, hated that he was being so… nice. You dug your nails into his flesh and sped up. He held you tighter and forced you to slow. You grunted and opened your eyes, frowning down at him.

“No,” he spoke at last, “Not like that.”

You shook your head. When had he ever wanted anything but hard, fast pleasure. You pulled your hands from him and he forced them back as they were. You struggled with him for only a moment as he squeezed your wrists in warning.

“Slow,” he bid as he stared into your eyes. 

His hands returned to your sides and he rocked you again. You shuttered as the tide began to roll inside of you, swelling as it grew. You moaned as you began to quake. Loki’s deliberate stride had you confused. His pace matched your pleasure, quickening only as your voice rose louder.

You came again. You twitched atop him and he moved you as your wits left you entirely. His own voice filled your ears and his thick breaths intermingled with his lurid groans. His hand snaked around to your back and the other spread over your stomach. He stilled you and tilted his hips into you over and over from below.

He exclaimed as his orgasm struck him and impaled you entirely. He slowed and eased you down against him. He embraced you as he laid you over his chest and cradled your head as his chin rested against your head. 

_What was that?_ You wondered as your heart raced with his. His petered out but you couldn’t help as your mind struggled against your body.

When you calmed enough to move. His arms fell away and you parted from him, his seed spilling down your thighs. You fell back on the mattress, your flesh still buzzing. You couldn’t look at him. _Why would he do that? Like that?_

You were his whore, he’d told you time and again. You rolled onto your side, your back to him and crossed your arms. He ran his fingers along your spine.

“Are you unwell?” He asked.

You didn’t answer. Why would he even ask that? Your eyes tingled and you fought to hold back your tears. He was just torturing you. That’s all this was.

“Speak to me, mouse,” he grabbed your shoulder and forced you flat on your back.

You gritted your teeth and stared at the ceiling. “Why?”

“I was gentle…” He said, his voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes, why?” You repeated.

“I…” He paused and the silence was thick as it choked you.

“When your wife arrives, what will she think of me, your whore, and the bastard inside of me?” You spat. 

He sat up and leaned on his arm as he watched you. You refused to look at him.

“I’ll deal with my wife.” He said, “And I’ll deal with you. Don’t forget yourself, mouse.”

You scoffed and tried to turn away from him again. He held you down and let out a long breath. His hand came up to frame your face. “I am heartened, mouse, that you do remain so stubborn.”

🐍

Sleep did not come easy that night. Not to you. Loki was hardly bothered as he snored beside you. His arm was across you as if to remind you of his power over you. Your thoughts strayed back to all your worries. Gilla, Thor, the man beside you, the child in your stomach.

Your life was not your own. It had never been. As you thought, you realised you had only ever been used by others. You had only ever been a footnote to someone else’s will. You had nothing, not even your own body, your own mind.

You slowly slipped from beneath Loki’s arm. Your thighs were sticky still with his cum and you were sickened by the sensation. You stood and went to the bath chamber and cleaned yourself with the cold water of the basin. You saw yourself in the looking glass. You looked hollow; you felt it.

You went back to the bedroom and covered yourself with the silken robe allotted you. You bent, awkwardly, to feed a log to the ashes and stirred it until you found ember. As the flame began to lick at the pale bark, you stood with a groan and passed into the front chamber.

You wandered around the space; it was smaller than the king’s former residence. You neared the table placed against the wall and stared at the peculiar object left atop it. _Careless,_ you thought as you pulled the leather-sheathed dagger towards you. _Or deliberate?_

Loki had a wife coming and brother to be tried. You were trouble for both. He was ever a trickster, ever deceptive, and perhaps, you had been dumb enough to believe him. Again. He didn’t want you back, didn’t want a bastard to muddy his inheritance; he’d only wanted a reason to be rid of Thor. Surely, he was so intent on keeping you hidden so that none would notice if you were gone.

_Had you been foolish enough to think he felt anything towards you but the need to sate his own lust? That he had any loyalty to you beyond a warm cunt? That you had any place here once he married? That your child would be welcomed as anything but a nuisance?_

You sat and freed the dagger from its cover. You held the blade up in the dim and felt its sharp edge with your fingertip. It sliced easily into your flesh. You turned it in your hand and thought of bringing it to your throat or plunging it deep in your chest. Your eyes welled and at last, the dam was broken.

You cried into your palm as your other hand gripped the dagger. You trembled and peered down at your stomach. _Would he care? If he found you in a river of your own blood?_ It would be a favour to all. 

You wept until your eyes were swollen and your throat was hoarse. You were a coward. _Why couldn’t you just do it? What did you have to live for?_

“Mouse,” Loki’s voice was cautious. “What are you… give me the knife, mouse.”

You dropped the blade and flinched as it bounced between your feet. You shook your head and mopped up the last of your tears from your cheeks. Loki neared slowly and bent to lift the dagger. He took the sheath and replaced it on the silver. His jaw squared as you avoided his gaze.

“What were you thinking to do with this?” He growled.

“Nothing,” you croaked. “I was only curious.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He hissed. “Whatever you were thinking, I don’t want it to ever cross your mind again. Understood?”

You nodded and hung your head. He moved away from you and opened the chest atop the side table. He tossed the dagger within and locked it.

“I told you. It is treason to spill king’s blood.” He stomped back to you. “Death cannot save you from my wrath.”

“I didn’t--”

“You thought to.” He snarled. “Get up.”

“Your majesty--”

“I will not tell you twice.” He barked.

You stood and he seized your arm. He turned you and marched you back into the bedchamber. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and you expected him to tear open the robe. You expected the same as he had been. You were certain he would be atop you in an instant.

But he passed you and went to the cloak hung beside your own. He fished around the pocket sewn into the lining and took out a bundle. He returned to you and held out the folded linen, bound with a length of hide lace. You frowned and he dropped it into your lap.

“Go on,” he loomed over you.

Your hands shook and you pulled free the bow looped atop the bundle. You unfolded the linen and revealed a pair of green booties, winding snakes sewn into the soles and golden ribbons woven along the top. They were small, meant for an infant. You cradled them in your hands as your throat tightened.

“My mother sewed them,” he said. “I found them after she died. I had almost forgotten them before I moved from my own chambers.” He sat beside you heavily. “I don’t know what else to do with them.”

You peeked over at him. You lowered them back to the linen and set them aside. “They’re meant for a prince.” You muttered.

“No, only for my child,” he said, “Prince or no.” His cheek twitched and he stared at the carpet, “Don’t make me hide them again. I couldn’t bear it.”

You were quiet. You’d never seen him so vulnerable. Angry, annoyed, longing… but never so solemn. Despite all your loathing for him, your heart squeezed. You took his hand, he winced, but let you move it. You put it to your stomach.

“It is my child, too,” you said softly. “I couldn’t…”

He nodded and pressed his palm firmly to your midriff. You sat, silently, the crackle of the fire the only noise. Loki did not move, nor did you. A wordless pact forged between you. The child would live. It had to.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: dubcon/noncon/rape
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: You try to adjust to life back at the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me say this is torture to write sitting with my bf because I wanna jump his bones but whatever. Anyways, this chapter is kinda just porn but you know we have some plot coming so enjoy while you can hahah.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback <3

Loki was reluctant to leave you and when he did, he left Hal in his stead. It wasn’t subtle. The boy watched you with his bright eyes and every time you stood and paced the room, he asked if you were well. It was rather irritating even if the boy meant well.

You sighed and dropped onto the chaise. You looked around the chambers and hunched forward as you held your face in your hands. Finally settled, as much as you could be, you were restless and you dared to admit it, bored. Hal sat in the armchair and held the same book he’d had in the carriage. You tilted your head as you admired the worn spine.

“Is there nothing I am allowed to keep me from going mad from this tedium?” You asked.

Hal looked up and blinked. He closed his book and rested it on his leg. “Can I ask you a question?” He wondered. You squinted but nodded. “You, by your own words, are a peasant. How come you speak so well?”

You shifted. You hadn’t expected that. You were unused to talking about yourself or thinking about your former life. It was so distant it felt as if it had never been yours.

“My uncle,” you said softly. “I worked in his pottery shop. We never made anything fancy, nothing for any noble patron, but when he was an apprentice, he was employed by a jeweler. Peasants don’t buy jewels. My uncle always said that a merchant should speak all languages, high and low, if he is to be successful, so he always reminded me to enunciate and use big words.” You scoffed and almost laughed at the thought, “Seems ridiculous now. He never made a pot for anything more than a modest holy man, and you know it is unseemly to accept coin from one anointed by the gods.”

“You made pots?”

“And chests, and plates, bowls, cups. We used clay, wood, we even worked some glass.” You explained. “My uncle’s wife died before he could have a child and my mother left me with him before she ran out.”

“And your father?” Hal leaned forward and winced at his own words. “My apologies, I shouldn’t--”

“My mother never married him proper.” You shrugged. “So I suppose, I’m a bastard too.” You touched your stomach. “Only entirely common.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You let yourself smile, “You’re the first in this godforsaken place who’s even asked about me. No one else cares what I’ve done, only what I can do for them.”

There was a pause as Hal flipped the cover of the book open and closed. His cheeks coloured, as they often did when he was thinking. “If you are bored, you might read?”

“Read?” You laughed, this time aloud. “Peasants don’t read. We can keep a ledger of debts but letters, those are beyond us.”

He was embarrassed. His whole face turned red and his blue eyes rounded. “Well, I… I don’t-- I didn’t--” He cleared his throat, “I could… teach you?”

You almost laughed again. You were kept from it as a knot formed in your chest. It was a kindness you hadn’t known in your time at the palace. _Sure, the king had brought you charcoal and paper, but he didn’t care that you couldn’t draw._ Aside from that, he expected you to wait around until he required your service.

You were suddenly overcome. You felt as if you would weep and quickly blotted your eyes with your sleeves. You sniffed back the threatening deluge and sat up. “You would teach me?”

“If I can,” he said meekly, “I’ve never taught anyone but I could try.” He stood and set aside the book. “Would you want to?”

“I think… but what is there to read?” You asked. “I always just thought books looked so...complicated.”

“Oh, there are wonderful stories,” he chimed, “Of princesses and knights and kings and queens.” He went to the writing desk in the corner and shuffled through the loose leafs, “Even stories of commoners; of the poor out in the cold and the lowly soldier marching with his liege.”

He turned with a handful of untouched parchment and an inkwell in hand. He set it on the table and retrieved two pens from the desk drawer. He pulled a chair away from the table and looked to you.

“My lady,” he said.

“I told you, that is not my title.” You rose slowly and groaned as your hips ached.

“May I call you it anyway?” He asked. “I think it fits you.”

You chuckled at him and patted his shoulder as you sat in the stiff-backed seat. “If you must.”

“Well,” he sat and placed a pen in front of you, “I think it is best to start by writing out the letters. That is how I began.”

“Alright,” you took the pen and rolled it between your fingers. He slid a sheet before you.

“Just repeat as I do and we will go over the sounds of each letter.” He explained, “Don’t forget the ink.” He uncapped the well and shook his head at himself. “Better I am not a tutor. I think the sword might be better held in my hand.”

“Oh, but Hal,” you said, “A knight should have patience and I expect, you’ll need much with me.”

🐍

Your lesson was long and frustrating. Hal seemed much wiser than you as he assured you that you must be twice his age and so it might take longer for you to catch on. It did not help as you only felt even duller. The boy was patient, to a fault, even, as finally you drew out your entire alphabet and named all the letters by heart. He advised that you looked them over often and repeat them when you could until the next lesson.

He shuffled up the parchment and cleaned the pens. He tucked it all away in the broad drawer as you moved to the chaise and reclined as your lower back rang with pain. He snapped it shut and resumed the armchair.

“The king writes in his solar often,” Hal said, “So you might assume that desk in his absence.”

“Is that what he does when he is away?” You rubbed your stomach pensively.

“He reads, he writes, he meets his council and gives his decrees,” Hal said, “He is a king who keeps himself busy.”

“You would think he’d long for solace when he is not at his duty,” you sighed.

“I think a king is often lonely in his own way. His nobles only expect favours of him and he cannot meet any on even ground.” Hal mulled. “Perhaps, he might feel as you do; that they do not ask after him, only what he can give them.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. _How much did Loki give to any?_ It seemed as if he only took. “Perhaps from his eye.” You tapped your fingers on a wrinkle in your gown. “How long have you served the king?”

“Since I was only eight years.” Hal said. “My father is an earl and Odin saw fit that I take service in the palace for my education. His own son needed an attendant. The king, a prince at the time, did think me too young.” He chuckled to himself, “He said I was as sweet as a maid and I would make a poor lord.”

“That isn’t very kind,” you huffed.

“Ah, but the king is only one who needs proof of one’s worth. He did see my loyalty and my diligence. He has kept me on and has made me squire. I cannot be more grateful.” Hal expounded, “When my training begins, I will no longer be expected to feed or dress him.”

“Oh,” you said glumly, “And when does he intend on that?”

“In the spring, when he is wed,” he answered, “When the snow has melted and the yards are not so treacherous.”

You were quiet. You sat up and turned your legs over the edge of the chaise. You leaned on the low arm and kept a pillow under your elbow.

“You will see me still, my lady,” he said, “I promise that.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I will be round and ready to burst by then and you will have a new duty.” You picked at the edge of the cushion, “And the king will have his wife. I think I mightn’t be here then.”

“Where would you be?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Hidden away so that the king’s shame cannot be known,” you shrugged, “What should a wife, a princess, think if her husband does keep another in his bed?”

Hal reddened and you almost giggled at his embarrassment, not thinking before you spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” you looked down.

“No, it is only… I am almost a man, I know of these things,” he insisted, “It is only, well, I cannot think of how he should have both.” He twiddled his fingers. “It makes me sad to think he might have to be rid of you. To think that things can change so quickly.”

“So is life,” you threw your hand up, “Nothing ever stays as it was.”

“I suppose,” Hal swallowed and opened his book, “But I would not dwell on it.” He flipped through the pages, “I’d rather enjoy things as they are now.”

You peeked over at the boy. As you watched him put his eyes to the page, you felt a bittersweet churning inside. He was so young, you recalled yourself at his age. You’d never been one for dreams or whimsical aspiration. Your uncle called you his little miser as you always saw the worst in the best. Life had yet to dispel your pessimism.

As he turned the page, another peculiar pang settled in you. You thought of your child and who they should be. You hoped they did not inherit your acrid gloom or their father’s malice. You hoped they were like the boy before you. You hoped you could give them dreams you never had. You hoped, you hoped, you hoped…

The door kept you from drifting further into your fears. You looked up as Loki entered and dusted the last of the melting snow from his shoulder. Hal was on his feet in a second and helped the king out of his damp cloak. You rose in turn, anxious as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

Loki’s pale skin was pinkened with the bite of the cold. He sniffed and bid Hal to fetch him tea. The boy flitted out obediently and left you to greet the king.

Loki rubbed his hands together as he went to the fire and warmed them over the flame. He didn’t look at you as he stared into the flames. “You may sit.” He said, “You should not tax yourself thus.”

You lowered yourself as he leaned on the mantle and brushed his fingers through his dark hair. He was still at his work in his head. You wondered why he’d returned so early as you expected he had much to do.

“I took my lords to arrange Tyr’s Hall for my brother’s arrival,” Loki said, “The snow has brought a tree down and damaged the roof.” He spun and his hands went to his hips. “We will have to relocate to the theatre. It is the only building spacious enough for the council and the jury and judges.” He paced and shook his head, “My father renewed that damned theatre over the courthouse. He always did like his shows. And now I must put my brother on trial as if it is some comedy!”

You watched him. He never spoke so much of his courtly troubles. You weren’t sure what you could offer. You knew little of what he did or could do.

“Ugh,” he stilled himself and held his hands out, “But I did come to clear my mind of these things.” He lowered his head and exhaled. He strode over to you and sat on the chaise next to you. “For all the nonsense, I could but worry for… the child.”

You nodded. “And me? You leave me with the boy so he can keep me from trouble?”

“I leave him as company. You needn’t be alone so much.” He leaned back on his hands and pushed his legs apart. “You don’t like him?”

“No, he is a sweet boy,” you assured him, “But I don’t think it fair to keep him locked up with me.”

“He does as I will,” Loki rolled his eyes, “As you do.”

You clamped your mouth shut. His usual mood had returned. You only suspected it to worsen as his brother’s presence loomed and the trial edged closer. 

“Your baker’s daughter did relent, at least,” he sneered, “Another witness for our cause though the word of a common whore will do little against a prince.”

You frowned. You didn’t want to think of Gilla or your visit to the dungeons. It made you shiver and you hugged yourself. He waved his hand in the air and chewed his cheek.

“There I go again,” He turned his head to you, “I did retire for the day and yet I cannot think clearly.”

You hummed. He sat up and rested his hand on his thigh, a tight fist as he shook his head at himself. He stretched out his fingers slowly and reached over to touch your stomach. It seemed to calm him so you let him.

“Your majesty,” you said softly. He looked at you again and drew his other hand from his chin.

“Mouse?” He gave a small nod.

“The child will need something to wear with the boots.” You touched your hips as they reverberated with a sudden pain. You held in a hiss and went on, “I can sew. Perhaps you might allow me a needle and some material to work with.”

“I would have my tailors take care of all that,” he drew a circle with his fingertips before he pulled away from your stomach. “I’ve staff to worry for the details.”

“But… but you leave me here without task. Without anything but a boy and the walls.” You leaned forward to take the weight off your hips. “If I had some work to do, the time might pass easier.”

His brows lowered and he pursed his lips. “I suppose you are right.” He looked up as a knock sounded and he called for Hal to enter. “Thank you, boy.” He pointed to the table and the cup was set down. “You may go and return for our supper.”

“Your majesty,” Hal retreated and the door closed firmly.

“I will have some fabric sent to you on the morrow,” Loki allowed and you squirmed as the settee made your bottom sore. “Would you sit still?”

“Thank you, your majesty,” you hissed and stood as you rubbed your hips, “It is the child. It makes me ache.”

He watched you grip your hips and the tension left his face. His eyes roved up and down your body and he rose. How quickly his mind flew away.

“I might help with that,” he purred.

“I’m not sure that is a solution,” you grumbled.

“Do not presume to know my thoughts,” he warned and grabbed your wrist. “Come. Lay down and I will ease your pain.”

You blinked at him and your doubt drew your lips taught. He snickered and tugged you towards the bedchamber.

“Time does you well.” He said as he drew you through the door behind him, “Your old habits do return to you.”

He was irritating you. The slither in his tone, the knowing, the taunting. He was, as he said of you, as he was before.

“And you haven’t changed at all,” you huffed as he sat you down.

“Did I ever claim it?” He winked and cracked his knuckles, “On your side, mouse.”

“I think I only need to recline for a time,” you argued, “Without bother.”

“Oh, a bother am I?” He arched a brow. He bent and came close enough that his nose tickled yours. “There are ways for me to hurt you without affecting the child. So, let us not tread backward, mouse.”

You couldn’t help how your anger spiked. Your emotions grew more and more erratic. You merely gritted your teeth and lowered yourself down across the bed. He spun his finger to have you turn your back to him and you obeyed if only to hide your spite. The morning felt as if it was long ago.

“Just… relax,” his fingers went to your hip and he kneaded the flesh, “Birger says a woman with child is usually uncomfortable, so let me help and you might not be so fickle.”

“Fickle?” You snipped.

“I could think of another word but let us not venture so far,” he teased.

You moaned in surprise as his touch eased your muscles. You heard his low chuckle in response and you went rigid again. He continued to massage your hip, then your back, and your shoulders. He was quiet and you were uncertain as your body eased and your mind raced.

“Turn over,” he bid and you did without resistance.

His hand was on your other hip as your arm fell back and you closed your eyes. If he was the reason for your tension, he was as good at soothing it. You felt sleepy as he carried on and his fingers danced up your side. He touched your stomach again and crawled upward until he was cupping your breast.

You opened your eyes and he was grinning at the sigh of his hand on your chest. You grabbed his wrist and he shook you off.

“Well, mouse, you’ve got _me_ all stiff now,” he looked to his lap and you sighed. “I say, these are bigger with each day.”

“Ah,” you squeaked as he pinched your nipple through the dress, “And tender!”

“All the better,” he groped you again. “You needn’t do anything but lay there, mouse.”

He nudged you onto your back and you resisted until he pinched you again. He caught your hand before you could strike him and shoved it down beside your head.

“Think of the child,” he cooed as he stood and pushed his knee between your legs. “I thought we had an understanding, mouse.” He brought his other knee down and forced your legs apart. “Birger did say that these activities were beneficial to your condition.”

“Oh, he did?” You wriggled your hand as he pinned your other down and stared down at you.

“And it is not so beneficial for you to work yourself up,” he warned, “So you might calm yourself before you suffer for it.”

“You mean let you have your pleasure.”

“If it entails my pleasure, then I cannot complain,” he released your hands and grabbed your tits again. “Fuck, look at you.”

You squeezed your legs around him but made no move to resist. He’d worked himself into a lust and to resist him might undo all his kindness. As it were, his persistence was not so cruel as before. You could bear it if only for the hope of rest in the end. You could bear it for the life inside you.

“I do not know if I can restrain myself as I did last eve,” he grasped the top of your gown and with effort, tore it open, “But I will try.”

You grunted as he jolted your body as he bared your swollen breast. He bent and took a nipple in his mouth and suckled. It sent a tingle deep into your chest and through your core. You gasped and your hand went to the back of his head. He swirled his tongue around your hardened bud as his fingers played with the other.

He moved to your other breast, a trail of spit between them as he relished the way you squirmed. You couldn’t help it as the pain was laced with a sensation more intense than any you’d felt before. He grabbed the top of the tear already rent in your gown and ripped it further. He dragged his lips down your stomach and growled.

You cursed under your breath. You hated that you felt this way. He pushed your legs up as he nestled between your legs and his warmth spread over your pelvis. He dipped his head down and you flinched as he delved into your folds. You dropped your hand from his hair and he pulled it back impatiently as he buried himself deeper in your cunt.

You bit down as your legs curled over his shoulders, his fingers traced your entrance as his mouth teased your clit. He poked inside and you moaned. He added another finger and worked them in tandem with his tongue. You tangled your fingers in his locks and panted as you covered your face with your other hand.

He kept on until you were writhing and whining. You rocked against his face hungrily and the release swept over you violently. You cried out and locked him between your legs as you rode out your climax. 

He slowly withdrew and sat up as he kept your legs against him, resting your feet against his shoulders. He reached to the top of his breeches, hastily snapping the laces and parting the top. He freed his member and angled himself against your cunt.

He prodded you with his tip and slickened his cock with your arousal. Your hand fell to the pillow and you looked up at his dilated eyes. 

He entered you in a single thrust. You exclaimed and he wiggled his hips as he tested your limits. He gripped your thighs as he began to move against you with long, even strokes. You quivered as your walls clenched around him. You felt your arousal spreading across his breeches with each thrust.

He sped up, his nails sinking into your thighs as he groaned in delight. He threw his head back as his breath hitched. The noise of his fucking filled the chamber and bounced off the corners in a lurid echo. Your frantic pants added to the carnal symphony and fed your hunger.

You reached down to grip the loose fabric of his trousers as he rutted into you. His fingers fluttered down to your cunt and he played with your bud as he fucked you. Your feet arched and you felt another orgasm brewing inside of you.

“Please,” you gasped, “Fuck, fuck!” You were dazed from the sheer pleasure flowing through, “Gods, I fucking hate--” 

You came and your voice fizzled to a series of pathetic whimpers. He only thrust harder and faster. He pushed your legs down around him and planted his hands on either side of you as he groaned and grunted. He was close, you felt it in the way he quaked.

He pulled out of you suddenly and grabbed your hand. He wrapped it around his cock beneath his own and made you stroke him until he finished. His seed spilled out over your stomach, a few strings glossed over your tits, and he slowed your hand as he shuddered and stilled against you. He dropped your hand, his cum wet across your palm and rolled his shoulders.

His green irises focused at last and he sat back as he let out a long breath. He dragged a finger along your stomach, stirring his seed as he admired the small curve of your middle. He turned his hand and pressed two fingers against your cunt until you writhed.

“Thank you, mouse,” he rasped. “For a moment, I did forget my troubles.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, violence, trauma, allusions to torture.
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: The trial begins and takes it toll on those involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter fifteen already?! I dunno what I’m doing but it’s happening. Everyone it’s happening! Hahah. I’m having too much fun. Also call out to @lokislastlove because you know she fuels the fire too much.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback<3

Your days formed a pattern. You woke as the king readied for the day ahead. When he left, Hal remained and kept you company. He helped you with your letters or read from you from his code of honour. You sewed or reclined on the chaise as you listened. Sometimes, you spoke of yourselves; the boy hadn’t the sense to be secretive but he was young and had little intricacy to his character.

When the king returned, he dismissed the boy. Often, he took his pleasure. You could do little but let him in hopes of keeping him pleasant; of avoiding a fight you couldn’t win. Other nights, he merely sat and thought, a few words offered on his inner turmoil. It was a peculiar, if not absurd, routine; the two of you in denial of the past as the present bore down on you.

A week passed. It felt longer and shorter all at once. Time seemed warped in your mind since your return to the palace. But you felt the changes inside of you. Your hunger grew insatiable and the nausea more persistent. Your emotions swelled and swayed between despair and anger; between buoyancy and blight. And as you were kept in better condition, your flesh began to soften and even after a few days, you noticed how you began to grow.

That day, you felt unready. You’d been awake for much of the night after a knock came at the door. Loki went to attend to his visitor and returned with jarring news. Thor had arrived in the capital and had been secured in his royal prison. His trial would commence within days.

Loki was restless too though he would not admit it. He lay beside you and feigned sleep. You stared up at the top of the bedpost and found it difficult to get comfortable. To think that Thor was just across the green in Boulder Tower. It was a trap meant for noble criminals, a historic landmark that had held traitors since the early days of the kingdom. You just didn’t believe it could hold Thor. Nothing could. In your mind, he was unstoppable.

You said little to the king before he left you that morning. His mind was on his brother, as yours was. Even Hal could not lift the gloom from you as he appeared with his usual smile. You ate with the boy and he helped you to the chaise as you grew weary from your fitful night. He sat at your feet and listened as you recited your letters.

“You remembered them all,” he beamed.

You smiled. It felt ridiculous but you were just as proud of yourself. You went through your letters every night after Loki was done with you. You repeated the sounds in your head as Hal had shown you and though your progress was slow, it was better than none.

You were silent as you struggled to keep your mind on the lessons. You hadn’t the energy to take up your needle and you found yourself fidgeting until Hal touched your ankle. You yawned and propped yourself up on your elbows.

“My lady, I can tell you are distracted,” he prodded.

“I am,” you dropped back and sighed. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t sleep and I cannot stop thinking of…” You couldn’t say the words and so you only shook your head.

“The prince?” He ventured. “I did see them escort him to the tower last night. They had him chained and… I never saw him look so worn.” Hal almost whispered, “And angry. I admit I did not sleep much, either.”

Your lip trembled and you covered your face with your arm. You might start sobbing if you thought of the prince too long. You could not do so without feeling his cold grip on your body, feeling his intrusions over and over, hearing his raw voice as he mocked you.

“Do you believe they can bring him to justice?” You asked. “That the king could ever rein in his own brother?”

“I know that the king is clever and that he would not proceed if he did not have some plan,” Hal said, “And I pray that Prince Thor is dealt with swiftly and rightly.”

You sniffed and flung your arm away from your head. You sat up and frowned. “Hal,” you said softly, “I wouldn’t think that the king feels much more for me than shallow want but… he might resent me for whatever becomes of his brother. Might resent the child inside of me.” You lowered your head, “I feel awfully alone and frightfully lost.”

“The king… no, it isn’t your fault,” Hal said. “You couldn’t--”

“Promise me,” you breathed and looked up meekly, “If this child is born and I am not kept around to see it grow, that you will look in on it. For me.”

“What do-- You are its mother, you will be there.”

“I am a peasant. I am a bed warmer, not a wife. I haven’t rights, even though I bear the seed myself.” You blinked away the tears, “I have no one else. You must see that in my absence, that this child is well.”

Hal gulped and nodded. His youth struck you and made you feel terribly for what you asked of him. You drew your legs down and sidled over to him. You touched his slender hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, Hal.”

“No, I think I am sorry.” He replied. “I haven’t listened to you. I forget…” He chewed his words, “I… sometimes, I find myself believing that you and the king, that you are his wife and that he is happy with you.” He inhaled deeply, “It is unfair of me to think of it as such because I know of all he’s done. It is only that I cannot understand it. I love the king but I do not love what he does.”

“I don’t understand it either,” you muttered, “I don’t think I can.”

He looked at you and his boyish cheeks paled. “How can you not? You are the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

You laughed, grimly. You touched his shoulder and retracted your hand as you stood. “Then, if you think me wise, listen to me. Do not try to understand the king or the prince or men like them. Only learn from them. Do not become them. Hal,” you turned back to him and clutched your hands, “Don’t let them take your decency.”

His eyes rounded and he rubbed his hands together as he thought. He hung his head. “My mother…” he spoke so quietly you could barely hear him, “She died birthing me. I never knew her and my father wanted me away so bad. The king, he has been the only constant in my life and I never questioned him before.”

“And you shouldn’t. There are things he can teach you. For all his cruelty, you can learn to be kind. For all his trickiness, you can learn to be honest. For all his sins, you can learn good deeds.” You swayed on your feet and hugged yourself, “And maybe one day, he will have the grace to learn from you.”

Hal’s eyes were glossy. He stood so quickly you hadn’t time to react before his arms were around you and his face was buried in your shoulder. Stunned, you slowly untwined your arms and hugged him in turn. You held him until he drew back, his face rosy with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accost you.” He rubbed his cheek.

“No, you didn’t,” you found it hard not to weep at the realisation that this boy had likely never been embraced thus. “Don’t apologise.” You drew him back and rocked him in your arms. “You’re a good boy, Hal, and you will be a great man.”

🐍

The prince’s trial commenced three days after his arrival in Boulder Tower. Loki didn’t touch you the night before and left without disturbing you. You woke, confused and alone. You spent much of your day over a basin, spilling your guts as the anxiety added to your sickness.

That night, the king remained silent. You caught him staring at you but he looked away quickly each time you did. You sat and sewed the hem of the nightshirt meant for your child. The tail was closed to keep the child’s legs warm and the collar was to be embroidered as a final touch.

You laid down but Loki did not. You fell asleep after some time but did not sink far into slumber. You awoke as a log clacked into the hearth and the king’s shadow retreated into the front chamber again. You rolled over and slept some more. You woke and rose to relieve yourself before peeking in on the king.

Loki had the nightshirt in his hands and traced the stitches with his thumbs. He grumbled to himself and replaced it where you’d left it hanging from a hook. He rubbed his eyes and sat heavily at the table. His hand balled into a fist and he hit the wood. You backed away before he could see you and hid yourself in the bed once more.

When the morning came, Loki still wasn’t abed. You heard the door and Hal’s voice permeated the early lull. “Your majesty,” he whispered and the king grunted, “It is time.”

You listened to the movement in the next chamber and the boy came to retrieve clean attire for the king. You pretended to doze as he did, your ears pricked as you tucked your chin down beneath the covers. The rustle of cloth and tinkle of metal followed.

“Weeks. It will be weeks.” Loki uttered. “Will I ever be done with my fool brother?”

Hal said nothing. He wasn’t expected to. He listened to the king’s qualms and went about his duty.

“Distract the woman,” he slithered, “Let her not think of Thor or the rest of my troubles. Birger will be at hand if you require him.”

The door opened and closed not long after. You realised that Hal was more than a placeholder, he was to keep you from asking questions. You didn’t want to dwell on Thor and all he’d done to you, but you hated to feel as if you knew nothing. _Did you not deserve to hear of the fate of your worst tormentor?_

You sat up and dressed in a dark blue gown. You washed your face from the basin and pulled on fur-lined slippers before you strode through to the front room. Hal read, a covered plate awaited you on the table. He bid you good morning and you sat and ate the hearty breakfast. It did little too soothe the ache of your stomach.

As the morning turned to noon, you took out the papers from the desk drawer and practiced your writing. Hal watched and helped you spell out simple words; table, chair, desk, your name, and his. When it came to Loki’s name, you dropped the pen and turned to glare at the boy.

“Tell me what you know of the trial.” You insisted.

“The trial?” He repeated, “Well, not much, I’ve been here with you, my lady.”

“Yes, but you’ve time without. You have friends in the palace. You are close to the king.” You tapped your fingers impatiently, “So tell me what keeps him so quiet.”

“I…” Hal sputtered and wrung his hands. “I don’t know if I should--”

“What do you think I’ll do? Surely I won’t say it to him. But… I am bored in here and kept ignorant. I deserve to know, for my peace of mind. Don’t you think?”

Hal huffed and fidgeted as he tried to come up with some argument. “Promise you won’t say a word.”

“I haven’t a particular urge to face the king’s wrath,” you said, “So?”

“The trial’s only just open,” he straightened the stack of parchment as he spoke, “Witnesses will not be heard for at least another week. As of now, they’ve only sworn in the prince and begun to review the evidence.” Hal poked his cheek with his tongue, “I had it from one of the servants in attendance that the prince threatened to choke each judge with his bare hands and lastly, the king.”

“He threatened them? At his own trial?” You gasped.

“He is angered that they took his wife and child. He swears he is framed and that the people will not let him be convicted on false charges.” Hal looked at you, “And as they began to present the evidence, he grew angrier. He attacked a guard and the session was ended early.”

You gaped at him. “Do you think he is right? That the people will harry behind him?”

“Who knows? He was king once but the council wasn’t entirely distraught to hear of his resignation. And King Loki has since tidied up much of the mess he left.” Hal scratched his chin, “There will be some loyalists but enough to save him? I hope and think not.”

You mulled over the revelations. Loki’s detached manner made more sense, and you admitted, was a blessing. You could not handle both the stress of the prince’s proximity and the king’s unyielding desire.

“I hope not, as well,” you said at last. “I won’t mention any of it to the king.”

🐍

Loki said less and less as the days passed. Some nights, he slept beside you, others you found him snoring in the chair as the fire dwindled. Aside from Hal, you felt terribly alone. It was as if you were living with a ghost. You might not long for his attentions but you were troubled by his silence.

A week after the trial began, you were woken by a sudden yank on the blanket. Loki stood by the bed and stared down at you. He lifted a brow and beckoned you with two fingers. He turned as you sat up and retrieved a stack of clothing from the low bench. He dropped it beside you and crossed his arms.

“Get dressed. You will break your fast and come with me,” he ordered.

You lifted the tunic, a dull grey embroidered with silver. The trousers were black and thick, and the boots were too big for you. “And covered your head,” he tossed a cap at you, “Try not to sway as a lady would.”

“What? I don’t--”

“Do as I say, mouse, all will make sense soon,” he backed away and left you in the flickered of a single lamp.

You pulled on the tunic, loose enough for your stomach and tied up the breeches as well as you could. You slid into the boots and tucked the cap into your pocket. You found the king chewing on a rasher and sat to eat with him. His long fingers were restless between bites and his forehead wrinkled in thought.

When he finished, he wiped his mouth and hands and took the cap from your pocket. He pulled it over your hair and gave you a dark cloak. “Keep your head down,” he led you to the door and you found Hal waiting in the corridor. “Go with the boy.”

“I don’t--”

He shushed you and pointed a single finger at you. “Wait. We will discuss after.” He snipped. “Keep quiet and don’t make a scene.”

Confused and too tired to resist much more, you followed Hal away from the king. You were nervous that you might not return to the chamber. That perhaps you might be taken some place where you would see only your own shadow. Had the king finally decided to be rid of you? The thought was not entirely dreaded but you would hate to be confined further.

As you were led out into the snowy yards, you were further disoriented. Hal helped you up into a carriage and sat across from you silently. You asked where you were going and he only shook your head as he gave a helpless look.

You pulled up outside a pillared facade with ancient statues. You hesitated as you descended the step onto the ground. It was the theatre. The trial was being held there, as Loki said, and you realised what was happening.

“What?” You grasped Hal’s wrist. “No, I can’t-- the prince--”

“Is restrained. By chain and by guard.” Hal assured. “He won’t even know you’re here, my lady.”

You shuddered and clung to Hal. “Why am I here?”

“To see. To listen.” He said cryptically. “I won’t leave you, alright?”

You nodded and braced yourself. You let go of him and followed him through the wide doors. You were guided up a flight of narrow stairs and into a balcony meant for the aristocratic patrons of the stage. You sat beside hall on the fine bench and peered out between the curtains.

The council members streamed in and filled the seats along a dais and the judges sat on the stage, a single stool at the centre for the witness. The doors opened to let in the audience, both common and noble, and they filled the benches meant for purveyors of a much less grave show.

The jury entered next, followed by the king, and order was called by the judge who sat at the center of the triarch. A hush went over the buzzing crowd and a staunch and dire tension filled the air. 

Finally, the prince himself was shown in with chains at his hands and throat. He was sat in the box before the rows of benches to face his crimes. He was seething though his appearance bore evidence of his exhaustion. You reached to hall and squeezed his hand.

Loki sat with his head high as the judge began the proceedings and handed it over Lord Mariton, who was chosen to prosecute the case.

You weren’t entirely certain of what was going on and you leaned forward as you listened. Commoners were seen in the lower courts and often the disputes were over property and swiftly cycled through. You had never seen anything so… big. The scene could not be anything less than historic.

“The court will proceed from the last day’s activity. We continue down our list of witnesses and having heard from servants and lesser, we would call on our more reliable voices this day. We would call to the stand a conspirer in the prince’s plot.” Mariton strode along the edge of the stage, “One Magnus Dorson. The king’s former guard.”

Your breath caught deep in your chest and your head swam. You gripped Hal’s entire arm and let out a pathetic whimper. The boy touched your hand. “My lady, I’m here.”

“How-- When?” You gasped, “He--”

You gaped down from the balcony as the doors beside the stage opened and a silhouette appeared. The former guard entered with his head down between two others. His broad shoulders slumped like a beaten dog and he limped heavily as he was shoved up the steps of the stage. He was forced into the witness box and sat in the chair with a thump.

Even from a distance, you could see all that had been done to Magnus. His eye was swollen, his lip split, and half his face was off-kilter. You barely recognized him but it could be no other. You brought your hand to your mouth as tears trickled from your eyes.

You couldn’t focus as Mariton swore in Magnus and you shook your head as you felt it hard to breathe. Your eyes kept bouncing between Magnus and Thor. The prince was visibly shocked at the site of his accomplice as the other man seemed barely able to see through his swollen eye.

“You served the king for how long?” Mariton began lightly.

You stared at Magnus. Waited for that voice, the one that haunted you, and when it came, it was brittle and broken. You looked at the king. He turned and met your gaze, though likely he could not see you past the shadows. He nodded and for an instant, his lips curved.

“Since his father’s reign. Almost five years.” Magnus hissed and shifted in pain.

“And when, in those five years, did you decide to betray him?”

Magnus sniffed and choked. He cough and a splotch of red spattered across his hand. He shook his head and swallowed.

“I never wanted-- The prince came to me. He said that he required an ear in the king’s presence. He said he was kept from courtly business though he only gave up the crown, not his nobility. I thought it harmless--”

“But you divulged royal business to the prince? The king’s business.” Mariton insisted.

“I… I did but--”

“And when the prince used this information and decided that he would reclaim the throne he willingly gave up on admittance of his own incompetence, you did not warn the king?”

Magnus coughed again. “No.”

“In fact, you left the palace on the Prince’s orders to carry out his will? His conspiracy?”

“Y-yes,” Magnus answered and kept his head down.

“So you admit your treason.”

“I-- I do,” Magnus’ voice crackled and he winced as he raised his shackled hands to touch his face. “I did it. I betrayed the king. I intended on handing over his throne to his brother. And the prince…” He shuddered, “The prince wanted a war.”

The audience broke out in a chatter. The king sat stoically and the jury huddled to whisper. The judges looked to each other and shouts echoed off the high ceilings.

“Traitor!” A shoe flew from the rabble and hit the prince. “Cunt!”

“Order!” A judge cried out and hit the floor with his staff. “Order!”

You covered your face at the chaos. Your mind erupted as you rocked and tried not to think of those dark days. Thor roared back at the maddened audience and you sobbed. Your entire body was racked with your dismay as you leaned against Hal.

“They can’t-- They can’t know I’m here! They’ll hurt me!” You whined into his tunic, “They’ll hurt me. Hurt me. Hurt…”

Hal rubbed your back and hushed you and he cooed in your ear. “My lady, they cannot. They will not. They are chained. They are caught.” He whispered. “Please, my lady, breathe.”

“Take me away,” you begged. “Take me away now.”

The boy held you and carefully helped you to your feet. You clutched his arm as you feared you would stumble and he took you back down the stairs. He ushered you to the carriage and you stumbled inside. He shut the door behind him and sat with you on the bench as you covered your face and continued to weep.

He hit the ceiling of the carriage and it jerked as the wheels groaned and churned through the slush. Hal touched your shoulder and rubbed your arm as you continued to blubber. You barely noticed the city as it passed you by. You weren’t there; you were in that room below the butcher’s shop, waiting for them.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: noncon/rape, violence/death, trauma, allusions to torture.
> 
> This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: The king proves himself and the reader must accept her fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, King Loki. Y’all better be ready because our little mouse will never stop suffering.
> 
> Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> As always, if you can, please leave some feedback<3

You felt like you were suffocating, slowly under a heap of rocks. Your return to the palace was a blur. You barely recalled the ride in the carriage or the flights of stairs between you and the chambers. 

You were entirely consumed by your memories and their voices; Magnus, broken before the court, confessing his crimes. Thor, angry and brutal as ever, shouting back at the people as they cried out at their traitorous prince. Neither gave you peace; they were only trapped animals waiting to break free and lash out again.

Hal was a spot in your vision. His voice tickled your ears but you couldn’t answer him as you laid across the bed, clutching a pillow as you rocked frantically. As you calmed, spent from your fit, you rested on your side and quivered every now and then. The sobs would not come, only rattling breaths that seized your whole body.

Time slaked away like layers of ice melting into a puddle. The curtains were drawn back and revealed the shift of sunlight. A pale grey darkened to a dull slate and cast shadows around you, looming over you like the monsters in your mind.

You flinched as you heard the door, the hinges creaked and your fingers sank deep into the feather pillow. Hal greeted the king and firm footsteps marched across the floorboards. Loki’s figure appeared at the edge of your sight as you laid with your back to the hearth. He sighed as he came up behind you and sat on the edge of the mattress.

“You left rather suddenly,” he said as his hand settled on your side. You winced and hugged the pillow tighter. You hid your face against it, the feathers poking through and causing your cheeks to itch. “Mouse…”

You whimpered and curled your legs up. _What had this man done to you that was any different than those two savages?_ You still bore the scars of his switch across your back and your only shield was the life growing in your stomach. It was him who had brought you to this; who had sentenced you to live as a piece of a flesh; who had exposed you to the barbarity of his kin and kith.

“Why?” You asked softly as you turned your head against the pillow.

“I thought… I thought you would want to see vengeance done.” He said sternly. “To see that I’ve brought those beasts to justice.”

You sniffed and shook your head. “I never wanted to see them again… I…” You shrugged and exhaled weakly. 

“I did it for you, Mouse. I dragged that animal, Magnus, down to my dungeons and cut his flesh until he did confess. I watched his blood weep from his flesh and reminded him of what he'd done to you. I made him tremble at my hands. For you.” He sneered. “I’d do it again.”

“You did it for you. For your pride.” You uttered. “You’ve never done anything for me or any other. It is all for you. They humiliated you, took your plaything, kept from you your pleasures. It isn’t about me, it is about what I can do for you.” You wiggled away from his touch, “Do not lie to me, it not only makes me a fool, but you as well.”

“Do not presume to know my will,” he snarled, “Do not talk to me as if I am your subject and not the other way around. And look at me--” He grabbed your chin and forced you onto your back, “When you speak to me, mouse.”

You blinked as a lump lodged in your throat and let the pillow fall away from you. You braced yourself for what he would do next. You remembered the noise of the hinges, the heavy footsteps, the metal against your wrists, the stony touch of loveless beings, the violent claims to your body. 

You grabbed the king’s arm and began to flail. “No, no, no,” You exclaimed, “Please--”

“Gods,” Loki said in exasperation, “Hal! Hal!” You heard softer soles on the boards, “Fetch Birger. Now.”

Loki wriggled his arm from your grasp and grabbed your shoulders. He pinned you down as you kicked out and clawed at the air. “Mouse, shhhh. Mouse!”

“No! No! No!” Your hand flew up and struck Loki’s jaw. He grunted and shook away the jolt.

He struggled with you until the door sounded again and there was a clatter of footsteps across the front chamber. Loki climbed over you as the physician appeared and touched your forehead.

“I don’t know what has come over her.” Loki said, “She has these… episodes.”

“Ah, well she is with child and only just returned from an immense situation. Her nerves are split.” Birgir rubbed your cheek calmingly, “Dear, tell me five things you can see.”

“No, no, no,” you chanted.

“Five things, dear. Five things you can see.” He urged.

“The-- The bedpost…” You wisped, “Y-Your cap… Hal… The ceiling… A chair…”

“Very well, dear, and five thing, “Three things you can feel.”

“Y-Y-Your hand,” you touched the back of his hand, “The bed…” Your eyes flicked back and forth, “The fire.”

“Great, great,” he took your hand gently, “One thing you can smell.”

“The wood. Burning wood.” You gulped.

Birger nodded and smiled at you gently. “Hal, my boy, bring my chest.”

“What is wrong with her?” The king knelt on the mattress beside you.

“I told you. It is stress.” Birger said staunchly and squinted at the king, “Have you…”

“Not in the last days.” Loki admitted.

“But since her return?” The physician prodded. The king rolled his eyes and glanced away tellingly. “And you expect you to be as she was after all that? Do you even know all that happened to her?”

“She does not speak of it.” The king huffed.

“And why should she? To you?”

“You tread a dangerous path, Birger,” Loki warned.

Birger tutted and caressed the back of your hand. “Alright, I’ll do what I can.”

“You have something which can restrain her,” Loki said, “That can calm her.”

“As her condition stands, not much.” Birger stood as Hal approached with his chest, “It is better if she is kept calm. You can burn lavender--”

“No, you will sedate her so she will sleep,” Loki ordered, “I’ve pressing matters and little energy or time for this nonsense.”

“With respect, your majesty, this nonsense is as much to do with you as it is your brother or his accomplice,” Birger insisted, “It will persist.”

“So be it,” Loki pushed himself off the bed, “Find one of your vials and do your duty. She needs sleep, not quackery.” Birger let out a long breath and tapped his fingers on the lip of the chest. “Well, you’ve something else to say?” The king challenged.

“No, your majesty,” Birger looked into his chest and stirred through the contents, “Boy, bring some milk for the woman.”

Your body was limp across the bed, suddenly without strength as you listened to the argument. It was your fault. All of it. If you could just control yourself. If you weren’t so weak and stupid.

“When you finish, you will go.” Loki neared the door. “And do not bother me on your exit.”

The king disappeared through the doorway and you looked up at Birger as he pulled out a glass vial. You saw the irritation on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Why?” He asked bluntly, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

You clamped your lips shut and stared at the top of the bedpost. Hal returned and handed a cup of milk to Birger. The physician mixed in drops of the tincture and sat to hand it to you. You pushed yourself up and took it from him.

“Perhaps it is better you sleep for a time,” Birger said. “Are you eating well?”

“Yes, a lot,” you assured him and sipped the thick milk.

“Well, you make sure you keep on. Rest as much as you can.” He looked to Hal, “See if the boy is permitted to take you on walks. You must keep active as you can.”

You nodded and swallowed the milk tainted with the odd flavour of the medicine.

“Is the king rough with you? As he was before?”

You shook your head as you offered the empty cup. “Not since…” You nodded to your stomach.

“Good, good,” Birger set the cup aside and packed up his chest. “Take care, dear. I will be look in as I can.” He hauled his chest up and clapped Hal’s shoulder, “And boy, you will keep her well in my absence.”

“On my honour,” Hal promised and followed the physician to the door.

You felt heavy as you laid back and listened to Birger’s departure. The king was just in the next chamber and you heard the flutter of pages. Hal’s figure lingered as your eyelids shut and you sank down into the abyss. You were smothered by a sleep deeper than any you’d known in months.

🐍

You weren’t certain how long you slept. You woke in a fog. It was dark but for the glow of the fire and the shapes around you, the furniture shroud in grey, seemed distant and yet close. You felt light and airy and your body felt detached from your thoughts.

You lifted your head and peered around, trying to focus on the chair before the hearth. A wraith sat in it and as you sat up, you realised it was the king. You giggled and let the blankets fall away from your shoulders. He glanced over at you and tilted his head as the firelight limned his features.

“Mouse?” He said quizzically.

“Looookiiiii,” you sang as you turned your legs over the edge. He was visibly aghast at your use of his name. You only laughed again as you stood and wobbled. “Such an odd name.”

“Is it?” He lowered his brows and carefully stood to face you, “You should stay, mouse.”

“No, I’m not tired,” you argued and gave a long yawn. “I feel alive!”

“You can barely stay on your feet,” he rushed forward as you stumbled and caught you. “Come on, to bed with you.”

“Wouldn’t you like that!” You snapped and wriggled in his grasp. “But I’m hungry.”

“You’re deluded,” he rebuked.

You laughed and continued to struggle with him. “I’m perfectly well,” you slapped his chest, “I’m just…” You looked down as your stomach brushed against him and your mouth fell open. “Oh, gods…” You rubbed your middle, “I’ve already eaten too much!”

“No, mouse,” you heard a sliver of amusement in his tone, “You… you are just fine.”

“I’m fat!” You pouted and glared up at him. “Why am I so fat?”

He barely withheld a snicker and took your hand daintily. “I have some biscuits. Would you like one?”

“I couldn’t…” You shook your head as you felt your stomach. “I’m already-- but I am hungry. Just one, just one.”

“Well, you must sit if you want one,” he chided. “Understood, mouse?”

“Mouse! Mouse!” You mocked. “I hate that name. I am not a mouse.”

“Alright,” he nudged you back to the bed and you sat heavily, “Then what are you?”

“Hungry. I told you.” You crossed your arms. “Who are you?”

He grinned and looked around as if confused. “It is me, Loki.”

“Your nose is big,” you said sharply. 

“Thank you,” he said rigidly. “Just wait here.”

He left you and returned with a small box. He took out a biscuit with currants baked into it and held it out. He set the box aside and sat beside you as you eyed the treat.

“What is it?”

“It’s a biscuit,” he said curtly. “Like I said.”

“Sure, sure,” you smelled it and cautiously took a bite, “Suppose it tastes like a biscuit.”

He was quiet. You flinched as you felt his hand on your back suddenly. He rubbed a circle there as you chewed and you clapped the crumbs from your hands as you finished.

“Good?” He asked.

“I told you,” you grabbed his arm and shoved it away. “No.”

He dropped his arm and nodded. He watched you as you balled your hands in fists. You stood and stomped like a child around the room.

“As good as it feels, no, no, no!” You swept your finger through the air. “But perhaps…” You stopped and thought for a moment, “No! No!” You sneered at him. “I don’t want your royal cock tonight, sir!”

At last he chuckled and you were startled by the noise. His features contorted in his mirth and you watched him with wide eyes. He stood and neared you slowly. He reached out tentatively and touched your arms.

“Fine. Not tonight.” He assured you. “But you must lay back down.”

“Why?” You quivered and looked at your body again, “Are my legs broken?”

He smirked and shook his head. “No, because it is the middle of the night.”

You frowned. “Oh.”

“So, bed?” He asked.

“Wait!” You stopped him.

“What is it now?” He sniffed.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. 

“Right,” he said and calmly led you back to the bed. “Time to sleep, mouse.”

“Hmmpf,” you grumbled at the pet name and let him lay you across the bed. “I’m not tired.”

“Oh, you’re not?” He taunted as you yawned again into your hand.

“No,” you argued and your eyes closed. “Not at all.”

“Not at all,” he echoed as he pulled the blankets over you.

He sat with you until you drifted off again though you were barely aware of him. You fell back into the warmth of the bed and the haze of your mind. The peculiar scene blending in with your senseless dreams.

🐍

You awoke facing the king. He slumbered beside you, his pale features unmarred by his waking thoughts. Your head was fuzzy and your limbs heavy. You sat up slowly and wiped the sleep from your eyes. The events of the days before slowly came back to you but did not hit you with the same force. You were anxious to think of Thor and Magnus but not terrified.

Loki groaned and reached out to touch your leg, as if assuring himself of your presence, as he stirred. You watched his long fingers as he squeezed you through the blankets and opened his eyes.

“Mouse,” he voice was hoarse as he retracted his hand and swept his dark hair back. “Is there something the matter?”

You shook your head and looked around. You didn’t like how comfortable you felt. You recalled his callous words the day before during your panic and all those times before he had been unkind. _How could he sleep beside you as he would a wife? A wife…_

You turned your back to him and evaded his reach again as you stood. You hugged yourself as you neared the dwindling fire and shivered. You heard the mattress move beneath him but he did not rise. You looked to the ceiling as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“Why won’t you give me an answer?” You asked.

“Excuse me?”

“What is to become of me when your wife is here?” You spun back to face him. He sprawled across the mattress as his shoulders and chest were bare above them. “I know this… will change. And I know once this babe is born, you will be done with me or cruel as you were before.”

His face darkened but he made no move to rise. He exhaled, a low growl, and rubbed his forehead.

“I needn’t tell you anything more than you need to know.” He sneered. “I will do whatever is best at the time.”

You gritted your teeth in frustration. You hated his riddles. You weren’t going to get an answer.

“My wife will do whatever I wish of her. And when I have a child on her, then you and the bastard will be of little bother.” He uttered. “And when you are ready, you will return to your original duty.”

Your chest knotted and your stomach grumbled painfully. Your anxiety mixed with your hunger and made your core a pit.

“And the child? I am to carry it to some unknown fate?”

“My child. I shall keep it safe.”

“And me?”

“You are its mother. But you are mine, first and foremost.” He bent his arms behind his head. “You will serve me before the child.”

You scowled in disgust but said nothing. He watched you and slipped his hand beneath the blankets.

“I will have a nursemaid for you. You needn’t worry for the child’s health.” He cooed.

“And my own? Do you care?”

He scoffed. “I’ve provided you with shelter, with sustenance, with a physician for your ailments. I’ve seen you well and I ask little in return.” He declared. “Remind yourself again that you are _not_ my wife.”

“Yes, I am your whore. I am aware.” You hissed. “But you do seem to forget yourself.”

“I forget myself?” He sat up. “Oh, let us put things straight.”

You staggered backwards as he was off the bed in an instant. He seized your arm and you struggled with him as he tried to drag you back with him. 

“The child!” You cried.

“Will be well,” he snarled as he grabbed a hank of your hair and twisted your neck painfully. “Come on, mouse, you want things to be as they were.”

“Stop! I only--”

He sat and you lurched against him. He pushed you back and forced you down to your knees and drew you between his own. His cock twitched and hardened slowly as he clung to you. You pushed on his thighs and wrestled with him as he gripped your jaw.

“My patience for you is spent,” he spat as he shoved your head into his lap. “Open up, whore.”

“Please--”

“Let me give you your answer.” He bit out. “When you have born my bastard, I will use those parts of you unruined by its passage.” He squeezed until you gasped and forced his tip into your mouth. “I shall have my wife’s cunt and your mouth.”

You gurgled as he pushed against the back of your throat and slid down it. You gagged and he pulled you back. 

“Breathe,” he warned, “You don’t want to hurt the child.”

He forced you back down and you clawed at his sides. He moved your head steadily, up and down his length until he was entirely hard. You were dizzy and helpless against him. His groans and grunts added to the noise of you in his mouth and he clutched your head tighter.

He fucked your mouth until you were gasping and gulping around him. He wrenched you off of him suddenly and stroked himself to his climax, his seed stringing across your face. He released you and you fell back in a heap. He stood and stepped around you without concern.

“That is what you will be. Always.” He barked as he crossed the room. “Mine. To do with as I please.”

🐍

The days that followed were frigid and fraught. You could not forget that morning as the king’s former disposition returned fully. He left you in the morning without disturbance and you bided the hours silently, barely aware of Hal as he tried to cheer you. When Loki returned, the boy was sent away. He didn’t speak, only sat and stewed in whatever blight had angered him that day.

And when he wanted you, he had you. Hand, mouth, or cunt. You bore it and hid yourself under the covers when it was done. 

Another week gone and Hal announced that the verdict had been dealt. Loki hadn’t said and you hadn’t dared to ask. You listened as the boy explained how the jury and judges had found Thor guilty and condemned him to death by the sword. Magnus, however, was to be hung like a common criminal.

But that did not mean you would be without a villain. Loki’s moods assured you that nothing had changed at all. It assured you that your life would be as it ever was. That the fate he’d promised you down in that dungeon would come to pass. You would never escape him and perhaps, though you’d not realised it, your time with Thor and Magnus could have been your only hope at an eventual end to the agony.

You sat in limbo. You could hardly believe that they would die and yet, you feared the future beyond. For all the certainty of their sentences, yours was still frightfully abstract. You could not decide if you were appeased by their demise or envious of it.

Your inner strife was interrupted as Hal stood suddenly and you turned to watch the door open. The boy bowed to the king as he entered, clothed in fur and his horned crown. You stood and the king looked between the two of you. He raised his chin and looked down his nose.

“Get her a cloak and boots,” he demanded, “You will accompany us to the green.”

“The green? Why--”

“Gird your tongue, woman,” Loki demanded. “Haven’t you asked enough questions?”

Hal glanced at you wistfully but did as he was told. He helped you into the fur-trimmed cloak and you pulled the hood up as he helped you step into the boots and laced them tightly. Hal snatched up his own cap as he followed you and the king into the corridor.

You walked behind Loki and his guards, Hal was at your side and foreboding set deep in your stomach. You could guess at the event on the green though you hoped it wasn’t as you expected.

You came out into the blustery winter light and a crowd gathered around a stage erected over the white yard. Just before the walls of Boulder Tower, housed tight within the borders of the palace, a platform stood awaiting the executioner and his victim. You stopped short and Hal quickly caught your elbow and urged you on. The king peered over his shoulder in a wordless reproach.

The people parted as the monarch approached and you were diverted into the crowd of onlookers by another armored man. You went unnoticed as the king passed to the front of the audience and you stood alone with the steely sentinel.

A hush went over the crowd as the king stood with his head high. The hooded executioner came out onto the stage and waited by the lever. Armor clinked and announced the arrival of the criminal before he appeared. Magnus had only rags wrapped around his feet and shreds of clothing barely hanging from his form.

He twitched nervously but showed little emotion as he was herded up the steps. The hooded man came forward to wrap the noose around his neck and a holy man offered muttered prayers to the condemned.

You froze as you gaped up at the scene. It felt like a horrid nightmare. The prisoner shrugged away the holy man and strained against the rope. He looked across the green and his eyes narrowed at the king stood among the masses.

“Fuck the king!” He shouted and the lever was pulled suddenly.

The heavy body plummeted downward and all could hear the crack of his neck above their gasps. It was a sickly sound that made your legs weak. You saw Hal, close to the king’s shoulder, lower his head and a few onlookers swayed before they fainted. You felt queasy but did not waver.

You only remained as you were as slowly, those who still had sense, roused those in shock and dispersed. Those who had fallen were carried away by their companions and you still did not move. It was only as the king’s figure retreated that you were woken from your trance.

“Shall I have his skull boiled and brought to you?” He asked as he neared with his guards in tow. You shook your head and looked away from him. Your eyes stung. “Do not act as if I’m the same as they were,” he lowered his voice as he leaned in. “They would’ve killed you and the child. Where do you think they were taking you?”

You shivered and pulled your hood low to hide your distress. Loki let out a breath that clouded before him in the cold. Snow crunched as an unseen figure neared and another armoured man came up breathlessly. You peeked from beneath your cloak and king frowned at the guard’s frantic energy.

“What is it now?” He poked the guard’s breastplate harshly.

“Your majesty,” the man caught his breath in rasps, “The prince--”

“What of my brother?” Loki tensed and fidgeted as he glared at the guard.

“He is gone. He has escaped.” The guard announced. “He--”

“What do you mean he is gone?!” Loki seized the guard by the mail that poked up around his cowl. “How could he be gone?”

“It seems there was a plot. Lord Fandral and his ilk--”

“Fuck!” Loki shoved away the man and punched his palm. “Fuck!!!” He shouted and looked around at the liveried guards, “Well, you fools, go find them!”


End file.
